I sneaked out of work for a while under the guise of delivering some paperwork to our other building up the street, and I found myself patting the leaves of shrubs as I strolled, finding shapes in the clouds, and wanting to roll down a grassy hill that just invited playtime. Had I not been wearing khaki pants (read: easily stained), I just may have caved to the temptation!
Working in the yard, or tending to my many houseplants, I feel a connection I don’t feel anywhere else, a completeness, like I’m right where I’m supposed to be. It seems to me we’ve lost touch and distanced ourselves from nature so much that nature has become something to control, force, pave over to make room for our conveniences and luxuries.
I thought of my father as I walked today. My favorite plant since I was very little is the lilac, and my father told me that once, when I was real young, I came running to him, rather upset, and pointed to the lilac bush in our front yard. The lilacs were withering to brown, and I asked him to do something about it, and quick! My father said he told me the flowers were dying off like they are supposed to, and then I gave him a scathing, dirty “this answer does not please me” look and marched off. He smiled and laughed when he told me that story.
Hey, attitude starts early, and he’s to blame for half of my genetics, right?
*Photo courtesy of English Country Garden*