How parenting is like gardening

The next time you’re tempted to think of gardening as a pleasant, decorative pastime, I want you to picture this:

Gardening is a lot of moving dirt (wet dirt, sometimes, which is heavy as well as being dirtier than non-wet dirt), carrying water, and applying brute force in opposition of the unstoppable. In other words, it’s a lot like being the mother of two small boys, so it’s natural I should like both. (Applies equally to girls: childhood should be noise, with dirt on top. Discuss.) This is the part of gardening at which I excel. The digging up, clearing obstacles, and creating a blank canvas. (Oh, dear, it really does seem that we have a metaphor on our hands. Hold on tightly, I suppose…) What I’m less good at is what is “supposed” to come next. I’m supposed to have an exact idea of what I want this area to become. I’m supposed to put in plants and hardscape and train them and maintain them so that they will each fill their allotted space, remain pleasing to the eye, and bloom and grow harmoniously throughout the season. But I’m more prone to try things that are way outside my knowledge level, and be curious when they don’t work. To pick out things I like and put them someplace to see if they thrive and start trying to take over and if they do, find a more sheltered spot for other, less successful plants. I get more pleasure out of my garden when I am selective about what I put in, and then let its natural inclination dictate the final result.

Something I’m trying to get better at is to recognize my limitations. To that end, I’ve had to make some rules. No foreign invasives. In fact, no invasives at all. It has to be drought tolerant and deer resistant, because we frequently have both- and while I’ll happily delight in the explosion of Black Eyed Susans, I don’t have it in me to cry every day over rose bushes that were a deer snack… again. The deer are the way the deer are, and they eat things. Lots of things, all the time. And I am who I am- I won’t remember to keep setting up the deterrents. Better for me just to stick to things that will survive with only the most necessary interventions from me. But I have to watch myself, and police these rules closely. “So pretty!” is a warning bell, or should be, when it pops into my head. Because yes, that ornamental is pretty, but not if I’m watching it die by inches all summer long because even when I water it, it’s just too darn dry this year. Better to pick things that do best when given food, water, and sunshine in variable amounts, and see what happens. If they over-grow, I’ll stake them for support and enjoy their exuberance. Maybe in a few years’ time I go after their stumps with a shovel because they have so completely taken over the stairway to the patio that the only answer is for them to come out- in which case, I’ll always offer the stumps up to some other gardener, who has the right space for them to thrive.

In the garden as in life: Give food, water, shelter, and room to grow. Remember that this year’s disappointments may bring about next year’s successes. Enjoy the exuberance, and let go when it’s time. Leave room for surprises. These things, I can cultivate. Actual plants, well. I don’t know about that.