Digging In
Yesterday was one of those full, soul-busy days—the kind that begins with a garden spade and ends with a heart feeling a little more whole.
In the garden, I continued a project I started earlier in the week: moving a few more delicate plants, like the obedient plant, from the crowded space beneath the fir tree to roomier soil in the back. These quieter, less assertive plants need room to breathe—or they get subsumed by their louder neighbors. (Relatable.) As I moved them, I thought about all the parts of myself that I’ve had to dig up, dust off, and replant in places where they could thrive. The act of transplanting felt like an act of self-love.
Today, I’m working on creating spacend collecting bulbs that have surfaced—gifts from the soil itself. I’m dreaming up new beds: one by the sliding glass door and two others in spots I’m still observing for sun. I’m even toying with the idea of a “traffic circle” in the backyard—a kind of visual anchor as you enter, made of blooms and a bit of whimsy. It might be a few years off, especially since I’m still enriching the soil along the south side fence, but it’s a vision I’m nurturing.
Letting the back lawn go a bit feral has been an experiment in patience and curiosity. I want to see what the soil does when left to its own wild rhythm. Shade and height might help it recover. I figure I’ll mow again when Joel wants to play badminton or when the next visitor arrives. Until then, the wild is welcome.
I did some weed-whacking until the trimmer cord gave out. A new one arrived that evening—perfect timing. I also need to pop over to Dr. Cho’s and see about his lilac bush, which could use a little loving attention. Friday might be the day for that.
As I think about all these moments of my day—moving plants, planting bulbs, baking brownies, walking with Peanut—I’m struck by how much of gardening is about claiming space. For plants, for beauty, for rest. And I suppose that’s what I’m doing, too: slowly, intentionally, claiming space in my own life.
Thanks for being part of this journey with me—on the page, in the garden, and beyond. May you find small ways today to root yourself in joy, and to water the parts of you that need light.
Happy planting,
Emma 🌼
