Reflecting on Mother Earth and Father Time in my Garden

Springtime 2019. One-third of the way through my 82nd year. Another opportunity to plant, to grow. Another season to reflect on, and marvel at, what survived winter's harsh "lessons" and what succumbed. 

Mother Earth continues to show me that being resilient does not mean my plants and I won't show some of the effects of passing seasons. Where there is decay in one area, there is rebirth and renewal in another. 

As the seasons come and go, Father Time perseveres and reveals just how powerful 'he' is. A perennial flower planted seven years ago spread and grew, regaling with vibrant colors of red, orange and brilliant green ... until this year. As I eagerly searched beneath the cool and damp soil for signs of rebirth, I discovered Winter's freezing temperatures had heaved the ground, dug icy fingers deep into the soil, grasped tender roots and dealt a death blow to the plant. Its "time" had come. 

Discovering a dead or dying flower, tree, or shrub, always hurts my heart. I know this is the way life, all life,  is. I understand there are not only natural cycles of life, but there are events, circumstances, happenings, over which we have no control. Still, I ache. 

However, as with the now-dead, much-loved perennial, I know the energy which sustained the plant has simply taken a new form and is now, possibly, feeding the roots of the newly planted.

We do as much to sustain ourselves as our human energy and attention allows: we make adjustments to our lifestyles, we read and delve and explore options to enhance our lives. And yet ... and yet ... we find Mother Earth is actually quite selfish. Her one goal is to sustain life and the form doesn't matter. She conspires with Father Time to accomplish this goal. 

Yes, Mother Earth and Father Time are having another tryst in my garden. My deeply rooted love of nature means accepting the cycles and the changes they conspire to bring to my life.  

The garden is one of the two great metaphors for humanity.
The garden is about life and beauty 

and the impermanence of all living things. ...
Annie Lamott