I am not what anyone would consider to be a green thumb. I love to look at flowers and pretty green plants and freshly cut grass in the springtime. But I haven’t a clue when it comes to actually planting them and keeping them alive. We received a large indoor floor plant (don’t know what it was) after we got married and I was pleased to see that it stayed alive for a good long time. My mother-in-law later confessed that she would water it when she came over to babysit.
It was about this time last year when The Man and I were looking for a house to buy. We pulled up to a sweet little cape cod and I was immediately intimidated, not necessarily by the house itself, but by the landscaping. The front yard was nice, but the backyard was especially pretty: a crepe myrtle here, day lilies standing nearly as tall as I was, some kind of blooming purple and pink flowers and bright, leafy green plants placed just so. I immediately decided I loved this house. We hadn’t seen the inside yet, but somehow, I just knew. If I was ever going to have a pretty yard, I would have to buy one ready-made. And this one was perfect. We ended up buying that house and now, one year later, are experiencing another spring with it in full bloom.
But I have to admit I am nervous. See, I remember how pretty it was last year when we first saw it and I fear that, since I haven’t a clue how to keep this yard pretty, it will eventually become…not pretty. The previous owners lived here for many years and were good at yard stuff. I know how nice this yard can be…but what if I can’t keep it that way?
Flashback to 2 months ago during the winter olympics: I didn’t realize I had fallen asleep until I woke up. Sasha Cohen was just “14 minutes away from taking the ice” (as evil NBC so strategically flashed on the screen to lure me in…it worked). I don’t remember who had just skated off the ice, but one of the commentators said something and the concept has stuck with me. He said something about the pressure associated with the burden of potential. And I’ve thought about how that can be such a trap.
I think that is where I am with this whole yard thing…I know its potential, but do I have what it takes to keep it there? How often in life am I kept from enjoying the fullness of what things are for fear of missing what they could be?