I've got a flowering plant which I've had now for about 5 years. I really like the bloom, it's an unusual very dark red which I find most attractive. But this plant has a major flaw - in cool weather, the blooms open partway, then stop. Without bakingly hot summer temperatures, it won't perform.
I was looking at it this morning, and sighing to myself, frustrated at the darn thing for doing what it had done every year I've had it. I went on to other things in my morning, then later thought of it again, and this time, started laughing quietly to myself. I need to practise my program even in my garden.
I cannot force this plant to behave in a way I'd prefer it to do - open those beautifully-colored blooms properly. I either learn to accept that they open partway, or I find another home for it. Feeling frustrated upon catching sight of it, and irritated with the hybridiser, and continuing to keep it in my garden in the hopes that next year it will behave differently, is my own particular brand of denial operating in my garden.
I've also done this "waiting/hoping/feeling frustrated and angry while doing so" thing, in so many areas of my life. I've refused to look at what is right in front of me, in the hopes that if I squinted, and looked at it sidelong rather that straight on, it might look like something else entirely - year after year after year.
I was talking to someone recently about being a "slow learner." They agreed that sounded much nicer than "stubborn bonehead."
How many times do I pretend that I am practising tolerance and patience, when what I'm really doing, is practising denial?
Good questions. I have to ask myself what my motives are for some of the things that I do. Some days those are just unclear.
ReplyDeleteLately I've decided that I only want perennials in my garden. If a plant can't go the distance and loyally return year after year, then I just do not want it, no matter how beautiful it is!
ReplyDeleteDefinitely shows my need for consistency and control which surfaces whenever things are uncertain with the alcoholic in my life.
Often what is right in front of me is painful and yet, I didn't cause it and I can't control or cure it, and so, like you, I squint and give sidelong glances while hoping and praying like mad for change.
Robin