Beautiful is often a priority for me. I deeply appreciate walking into stunning, crafted spaces or eating a meal that I’ve first completely devoured with my eyes. Taking the time to present something in its best light, to me, is often worth the effort.
This sentiment is especially true in my gardens. My very logical husband often points out that if I just grew things in blocks and straight rows, it will be simpler and more efficient. And he's right. (Don't tell him I said that!) But I just can’t give up the effort to make things as lovely as possible. (And those of you who think about things like increased pollination and preventing disease spread will understand the added bonus of interplanting!)
I can notice a shift in how I perceive this aim for beauty in my vegetable gardens. While I will always hold a deep appreciate for manicured landscapes that are orderly and sublime, my tastes have definitely become a little more wild as I spend time in the gardens. I have grown to really cherish the chaos of flowers intertwining with vegetables and plants that show no boundaries. I love the rambling vines that sprawl where they like and meld together like blurred brushstrokes on canvas.
More recently, I am finding myself embracing the ugly. (And doesn’t that just feel like a substantial life metaphor?) Some of you have walked through my gardens and know my passion for sunflowers. You may also know about my propensity to leave volunteer sunflowers to grow where they like. Each year I tell myself to just pull them out and each year I end up with a small forest of golden giants.
The bummer about sunflowers that volunteer and start early is that they don’t make it through the whole growing season. This means I’m left with enormous, scraggly scarecrows stretching their dry twisted limbs across the span of my beautiful, lush gardens. It’s sort of like spending 20 minutes to get your (rebellious) hair just right . . only to walk out the door and see in your reflection that there is an enormous tangle in the back, sticking right out for everyone to see.
This battle with the growing timeline irked me. But then the birds moved in. This incredible melody has been pouring over my gardens as the song birds delight in their newfound perch (complete with complimentary snacks!). Brilliant flashes of yellow light up the leaves as orioles sweep through. Tiny little feet, wings, and beaks make themselves comfortable atop these ugly, swaying giants.
I could go on about the incredible benefit of having the birds make themselves comfortable in the garden. But, if I’m being honest, my heart just relishes in the beauty of it. And I am conscious that I would have completely missed out on this gorgeous, mysterious experience if I would have rushed in to clean up what I felt didn’t belong in the scene I wanted.
So I’m making a little more room for ugly in my life. I’m trying to be a little more open to what I feel might not be exactly the way I wanted it to be. Afterall, who knows? Maybe it will lead to something even more beautiful than I could have imagined on my own.
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