I used to be an avid gardener. “Used to be” before kid and dog and all the other responsibilities that come along with it. Once my daughter was born, gardening dropped down to about number 72 on my list of things to do, and my yard languished. Now it shows.
The thing is, I love and can appreciate beautiful gardens. Heck, I even love just CLEAN gardens at this time of year. Me, I still have dead peony stalks draped over askew peony cages as the new buds are trying to peek through all that mess. In fact, I should be out there now rather than writing this.
I’m learning that I have to try to let go of doing everything well. Sure, I look on in envy at a friend who is a stay-at-home mom (granted, with an 11-year old) whose house and yard are beautiful and immaculate. Every day she’s working on some project or another, maintaining and beautifying her house.
Look too far under the surface in my house and you’ll see the dust, the gathering of years of subtle neglect. At the same time, however, I try to remind myself I lead a very busy, full life, with a demanding job, and realize that I CHOOSE to prioritize my free time for my family, not my house.
Is that so bad? My peonies seem to think so.