Dancing with Daffodils: Anticipating the growth to come is one joy of gardening
By Amy Rognlie
At my last checkup with my doctor, I commented that I was happy to have more time recently to spend gardening.
“Gardening is the best therapy there is,” was his enthusiastic response. “Get out there as much as you can!”
The act of creating something beautiful is, I think, a large part of the satisfaction I derive from gardening. But before creating, one must dream, imagine, envision.
For me, the picture I hold in my mind’s eye brings me great pleasure long before I even plunge the shovel into the dirt to forge the dream into reality.
Poet William Wordsworth expressed this same feeling when he wrote about his astonishment at coming upon a vast field of daffodils and the resulting pleasure the memory brought him for years afterward:
I gazed — and gazed — but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:
For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.
I would venture to say that for most gardeners, the vast possibilities — the vision of what could be — is alluring in and of itself.
And then the anticipation of bringing the vision to completion bit by bit adds to and extends the enjoyment.
Gardening at its best is not instant gratification, but a slow process that, by definition, takes the long view of life.
We planted a crape myrtle tree that we anticipate will be tall enough to shade the patio in 10 years. We tenderly transplanted the extra-prickly rose bush that used to grow in Grandma’s backyard and hope it will provide roses for our daughter’s wedding someday. We shared seeds and cuttings and clumps with others, that the beauty in our garden may continue to bring joy to others for decades to come.
In a world that sometimes feels out of control, gardening helps to stabilize us as we put down our roots, literally and figuratively, in our own space that we call home.
Indeed, gardening is often the opposite of the way we live the rest of our lives. Perhaps that is partly why gardening is good medicine. Gardening is not a project to be finished, a competition to win, or a deadline to meet. Gardening is never finished. It forces us to slow down, to breathe deeper and to let ourselves enjoy the most exquisite bud, the tiniest tendril, the fattest frog.
In our loud, chaotic world, the hush of even a small garden reacquaints us with the slower, more predictable rhythm of the seasons and the cycle of life. In a garden, like nowhere else, we can let our minds rest as we immerse ourselves in the worthwhile pursuit of creating beauty in our own little corner of the world.
“Gardening is the greatest tonic and therapy a human being can have. Even if you have only a tiny piece of earth, you can create something beautiful, which we all have a great need for.” — Audrey Hepburn
