Noticing

I recently returned from two weeks away--what a gift it is to travel again!--and found my garden the worse for wear. My colorful, flowering potted plants bring me joy, so I made it a priority to revitalize my little patch of blooms.

I keep most of them in pots for two reasons: our HOA and the bunnies. This time, I went a little crazy and bought more plants than I had pots. I thought the happy yellow perennial peanut would make a great ground cover around our porch door, decoratively blooming and usefully reducing the mulch that comes inside.

Surveying my completed work, I wondered why I hadn't planted peanut before. I anticipated a pillow of green and yellow welcoming us onto our lanai. Life was good.

The next morning, I remembered exactly why I had no perennial peanut in the ground. The entire plant had vanished, stripped to a few twigs by a resident rascally rabbit. Yes, I'd tried this before but completely forgotten. At least this time, I knew to protect the plant immediately--no second helping for you, Peter Rabbit!

Each day, I peer into my little rabbit-preventative cage to see how the peanut twigs fare. I admit that I feel a lot of sympathy for the formerly lush, full plant. I've felt a little stripped to the bone this past year and a half.

To my surprise, a shining yellow bloom greeted me one morning! I worried that the energy devoted to flowering would keep the peanut from making leaves so it could fully recover.

 

 

The next morning, the Little Peanut Who Could doubled down with TWO bright yellow flowers!

  

 

And then, a day or two later, the leaves came along in their own good time. 

Still feeling fellowship with the recovering peanut, I can't help wondering if we go about building and rebuilding our lives all backwards. Maybe we should bloom first, then worry about the practicalities of living. Maybe if we lead with joy, the work will happen in its own good time.

Joy...