Patient Renewal

A cool breeze blew across the lake towards the patio. I wrapped myself in a warm blanket, sipped hot tea, and marveled at the scene before me. A cover of gray clouds hung just above the trees. A trio of mallards hovered just over the water as they zipped down the channel. I turned when I heard a splash as they returned and screeched to a landing on the surface—one, two, and three.

A timid squirrel tiptoed along the brick patio in front of me. Two dark, shadowy figures ambled along the shore across the lake. They resembled the bear that had previously visited our yard, but then I realized they were twin dogs who had strayed from their home.

Twirling like miniature ballerinas on a magnificent stage, a succession of tiny leaves fluttered in the breeze. A few surged with the wind currents and disappeared over the roof. A single leaf pressed against the screen, hesitated, and dropped to the ground. Small clusters swirled together in a special dance before descending. The performers rested on the frost damaged green and brown lawn.

Standing tall before me, the sturdy oak was also a combination of green and brown. Dark green leaves clutched several branches. However, only a few sparse brown leaves hung precariously on nearby branches. One tree with opposing looks.

My entire garden was like that—a combination of vibrant and lifeless. The recent freeze had snuffed life from the less tolerant plants but served to strengthen the more hardy ones. In the spring, dead plants will be removed, damaged ones pruned, and hardy ones lightly trimmed. Eventually, the garden will be renewed and return to a sanctuary of beauty.

For now, I have to be content with what is before me. If I rush to prune, another freeze could cause even more damage. If I pull up brown vegetation, I won’t give it an opportunity to possibly recover. If I dig up and replace the damaged ones, I risk having them also freeze. Though difficult this is a time of rest and recuperation for my garden.

Surprisingly, through the trees at the end of the lake, a burst of sunlight glistened from the sunrise. A small section of water blazed with a golden sparkle—a promise of new growth and improvement. While I wait patiently for my garden, shouldn’t I also do the same for my own recuperation? It is easy to think we are to scramble to always be busy when we really need to stop and enjoy the rest.