Quite frankly the year so far has felt frustrating. We've been exchanging coughs and colds since way back in 2021, then a thorough dash of half term covid hit and just for good measure, a sickness bug with my littlest one this week... it's really felt like the year that never quite got going.
But do you know something I have achieved?
In January, I stuck some bulbs in pots.
An array of daffodils, tulips, crocuses and Irises. I remember swearing to myself at the time at the sheer audacity of thinking I could actually plant all the bulbs I'd tasked myself with planting.
The idea came about after my Mum voiced that she'd bought some bulbs in December. Next minute my sister is buying loads of bulbs for her allotment. So of course, I felt I should be doing that too because my Mum and sister lead and inspire me in how to be a grown up and do grown up things. Like making a trifle, stewing fruit because it goes well with yoghurt, buying nice serving dishes for hosting and other clever things like that. It was a tad ridiculous as I recognise there are certain things my hands really don't like doing. Placing bulbs ten centimetres apart and at a certain depth contains far more precision and pre-thought than I ever like to involve myself in. With mud-dirtied finger nails after I kept losing the trowel; resorting to cupping the earth with my hands, a wet and muddied paving slab or too and a voice saying 'you really have no idea what you're doing, do you Lisa!' I had to hope for nothing more than Mother nature pitying me enough to just take over and do her bit. Given that I'd planted them quite late into January, and probably fifty per cent shoot end down, I kept my expectations low. Very low.
The pots lined up hopefully along the back wall of the house like an interrogating criminal parade. The suspects all looking as miserable as the next. Pots of mud. Imposters, the lot of them and that's including me!
But do you know what.... they actually did something!
I see shoots.... lots of tiny green shoots!
I've never been so happy to see slim lush leaves poking through the earth.
I've since moved my pots so they can bask in the sunshine. A reward for good behaviour. I've been watering them too because my god, if these little bulb babies don't flourish, I don't know what I'll do. Can I just take a moment as well to mention the primroses, pansies and daffodils I planted in big pots keeping my front door company. Actually flourishing. Actually pretty. Actually alive. Occasionally I have to dead-head (get me, garden lingo, I know!) Bright and proud and bouncy and displaying the qualities and promise one can only dream of! I've even caught the magenta primrose doing a well timed sassy leaf flick!
As I tend to and nurture these pots, while the tending of my art and studio development takes a momentary back seat (until next week. hopefully.) I witness a different voice chiming through saying 'you did something... you made this happen!' Just trust. I'd love to say that tending for my children, made my heart that little more tender too ... it appears however much water I pour on their heads, they don't like it much!! However, I'm hopeful that together with Hubby, these long, drawn out (yawn!) bedtime rituals of reassuring and answering questions and offering unwanted advice must be strengthening those roots and bolstering those little stems somehow, even though some days, the growth remains to be seen.
Tending to something outside of ourselves and seeing it not only grow but flourish can create an opportunity to see and greet ourselves and our efforts with a gentle self compassion and tenderness. And this is why gaining a sense of mastering something (lets not get too ahead of ourselves, hey Lisa) however small or insignificant or feeling beyond our capabilities can only help amplify, deepen and extend a tenderness for ourselves for at least trying.
I planted bulbs because I wanted flowers that would look pretty but what I got in return was a sense of fulfilment and satisfaction which lead to viewing myself as someone who can create growth through putting in a little effort.
So when the day comes when we are finally germ free, and I can direct tenderness to the things I really want to see flourish... I'll look forward to feeling that dedication unfold tenfold... bouquets of it!
Wishing you opportunities to witness the incremental growth of anything that you're directing your love, attention and tenderness to right now.