Starting from Scratch

It’s a new year and I’m looking at an empty back yard. The latest issue of Organic Gardening came in the mail and even if I wanted to start planning the spring gardens, I’m completely overwhelmed by the clean slate. Do we go with raised beds or in-ground gardens? Fence? Square or organic boundaries? At the back of the lot or next to the house? Of my 4 raised boxes, only one remains intact. The fire ants shredded the others, so I’m in no way committed to following the same trend of the past three years at this house. In the back of our minds we have lofty goals for a gorgeous yard. Joe’s includes symmetry, patios, clear boundaries, a water feature, while mine includes sprawling gardens with quiet nooks for sitting back to sip on a cool beverage while swatting mosquitoes and dripping up the sweat running down the front of my shirt. But this is our view.

I nearly hyperventilate just looking at it. I suppose I ought to view it with the eager eyes that an artist would view a blank canvas, but I look at it and see about 73 decision for Joe and I to debate over.

Sometimes my life feels a little bit like my back yard this January – decisions to be made, long range dreams, and an overwhelmingly raw landscape to work with. One of my greatest fears to to be given potential to do great things but fart away my time on the living room sofa. And I don’t just mean in regards to gardening or my other somewhat overly consumptive hobbies. The last time I felt this way was when I was beginning research towards my masters degree, which later became a doctoral degree because I bit off more than I could chew in two years. It took me nearly two years to get it going because I was so terrified of starting out on a path that I might later regret. I didn’t want to commit time and energy into an endeavor that would later be abandoned. It was a case of stage fright.

But you know what? I did jump in, and perhaps starting at a clean slate isn’t necessarily starting from scratch. You never fully do start from scratch because in each new attempt you bring new knowledge, experiences and wisdom to the table. So, I raise a glass to New Year’s Stage Fright as the curtain opens for the second act.