Maybe It’s the Soil

My neighbor knocked on my door today just to tell me I was really knocking it out with the flower beds.

It was such a simple compliment, but it meant more than most people realize.

Because these flower beds and I have been in a relationship since 2022, and it has been complicated. 🙃

When I moved here, there were flowerpots sitting on top of the soil. I remember wondering why anyone would put flowers in pots inside a flower bed instead of planting them.

I understand now.

Clay. So much clay. And drainage that apparently believed water should simply move in and never leave.

I planted things.

They drowned.

I planted other things.

They drowned too.

I had consultations with irrigation and plumbing experts.

Eventually, I started digging.

And digging.

And digging.

At one point I had trenches, standing water, drainage pipes, displaced plants and what essentially became a small ecosystem. We even had tadpoles for a while. Very loud tadpoles, no joke.

Somewhere in the middle of all of this, I managed to seriously injure my foot.

So naturally, I kept going.

I eventually dug much of the clay out of one side. Dirt was supposed to be delivered and installed, except the “installed” part never really happened. My neighbor helped me get dirt back into the beds, mostly her doing, if we’re giving proper credit, and after that I basically planted things and prayed.

And something interesting happened.

The creeping Jenny on the side where I removed most of the clay took off.

It spread. It filled in. It found room to grow.

On the other side?

Jenny said absolutely not.

Same house.

Same person caring for it.

Same plant.

A few feet apart.

Different soil.

And looking at these pictures today, I realized there is probably a lesson hiding underneath all those wood chips.

Sometimes we spend so much time trying to make something grow that we assume the answer is more effort.

Try harder. Water it differently. Move it around. Give it another chance.

But sometimes it isn’t an effort problem.

Sometimes it’s the soil.

And yes, we can improve our environment. We can dig out what isn’t working. We can add something healthier. We can repair drainage and create better conditions.

But even then, not everything is meant to flourish everywhere.

That doesn’t mean I’m going to stand over the creeping Jenny demanding that it creep harder!!!

I’m going to let it flourish where it clearly wants to flourish, and I’m going to find something else that actually likes the conditions on the other side.

Maybe people aren’t all that different.

Finding the right environment isn’t about forcing ourselves to thrive everywhere. Sometimes it’s recognizing where we naturally take root, where we keep drowning, and when it’s time to stop blaming the plant for responding honestly to the soil.

These flower beds still aren’t finished.

Neither am I.

But when I look at the picture of the mud, trenches and standing water compared with what is there today, I don’t see something unfinished nearly as much as I see evidence of progress.

There was mud.

There were tadpoles.

There was an almost broken foot.

There was a whole lot of, Damn I keep falling in the whole.

And now there is life.

Still imperfect. Still figuring out what belongs where. Still experimenting.

But growing.

And today somebody walked over and knocked on my door simply because he noticed.

Sometimes life’s sweetest little blessings are just that:

Someone noticing the garden while you’re still busy remembering the mud.

Maybe it was never about making everything grow.

Maybe it was about learning what grows where.

🥰