In The Garden. A Lesson on Failure.

I like to dig in the dirt. I like the manual labor of hurling a giant shovel into the ground. I like planting seeds in the soil. I like filling a small cardboard cup with dirt, like a little Floof at the beach.?

My plants have many needs. They are Floofs too. I like the routine of watering them each day, until one day, something sprouts. It feels like magic–a small miracle. I love marveling that I raised a seedling. As it grows, I love to share pictures of it and force family and friends to comment on its progress. I am a millennial mom on Instagram.?

I like growing food because I like to cook. It feels especially homemade if my tomato salad contains three cherry tomatoes that came out of my yard. It also feels like a practical use of my time, since we all have to eat. The way things are going, it might be useful to know how to grow my own produce. I stay up late researching soil quality for raised plant beds and the best plants for Zone 7. I long to make my little suburban plot of land into something beautiful. Photos of conifers and perennial wildflowers on Pinterest keep me up at night. I can’t silence my ideas for my garden of Floofs so I find myself up at 2AM on a school night writing about why I dig.???

I am a passionate novice gardener with big ambitious ideas that sometimes don’t work. I had a big idea for this summer. I wanted to road trip around New York’s Tristate Area, dropping Floof Mobiles (ride on cars that I decked in moss and food-bearing plants) in prominent playground locations. I wanted to host car and truck themed sensory storytimes that raise money for Feeding Westchester. I wanted to sing my songbook, It’s So Hard To Be a Baby and put food in the mouths of the Floofs that need it most. Floof My Ride was a good idea. But then my plants kept dying. Vertical gardening on a Little Tykes Coupe Car is hard.?

I tried. And then I failed. In The Garden, failure is a life or death matter. The plant grows or shrivels into the dirt. Somewhere along the way, I lost my spirit and my focus. I lost The Lady. The plant death, the distractions of my resident Floofs, and then my call to write sent her away.?

I struggle with losing her. She can exhaust me. The disappointment of my living cars depleted me. I shifted energy to my freelance writing and gave myself the chance to breathe. I let The Lady lie dormant.?

Am I a failure? Did I give in to fear? Did I lose momentum? I wanted to feed the Floofs. How can I let down the Floofs??

As dreamers, as caretakers, as humans, we will all fail sometimes. How we recover from our losses makes the difference between the annual & the perennial. The annual plant blooms for one season, giving a brilliant show and then fading away. The perennials come and then go, but are not lost. They bloom back in a new season, bigger and stronger than before.?I have faith that my journey doesn’t end here. If you face the crossroads of failure and recovery, I hope you choose to bloom back bigger.?

Give yourself the time to mourn the pieces of your dream that did not happen. It is OK to rest, to stop and smell the roses in the other parts of your life. That sweetness will help you heal.?

This week, I hosted a Garden event as Drew Kramer, mom of Floofs. I missed The Lady as I gardened alongside little hands. I longed to tell stories and remind the world of its magic.?

As I wander in the wilderness of this creative journey, I feel a renewed energy to pick up the pace. The Floofs are hungry and The Garden needs tending. I hope you are here for it.?