Last week I finally had an glorious sunny afternoon free to tend to the garden. Of course it was a little late in the season to get going, so I plunged in with zest, pulling last year’s brown stalks up from the ground, raking the leftover leaves, and digging up some especially tough little saplings. I even made a dent in the mountain of mulch that had just been delivered.
Everything looked so much better after just a few hours, with the green shoots coming through the fresh mulch and last year’s leftovers swept away. But when I looked in the pile of weeds I’d pulled, I found the sprouts of some rare and beautiful native flowers that I’d planted and tended all through the past few years. In my zeal, I’d failed to spot them. So we’ll have fewer weeds this year, but these precious flowers might not survive.
Friends, whether plants or ideas or people, we are sometimes so hyper-focused that we’re quick to clear out all but the most familiar forms. This might make a tidy world, but it’s also a tiny one.
What might happen if we were a little less efficient, and a little more curious?
Who knows what greatness might bloom.