A perfect late summer day: sleeve-fluttering breeze, a few puffy clouds in a powder-blue sky, pleasantly temperate temperature—it’s finally happening.  The pure bliss of just being outdoors is all the more welcome after all the punishing suffering all the  preceding days which were way too hot, way too wet, or both of the above. A long-awaited respite of fine weather is a well-deserved reward, a treat, a miracle.  Wouldn’t it be a shame not to grab it with both dirt-stained hands and enjoy it to the very fullest? 

It is easy to be consumed by the never-ending commitment of our garden tasks and chores.  Those who lazily lie in that hammock or recliner will fall behind. There is always more to be done.  Neighbors are looking over your fence in judgment.  Social media talking heads exhort that you must add to your already overflowing to-do list.  Even the slugs are busy, and not in a good way!  Between “the early bird gets the worm” and “keeping up with the Joneses” we find ourselves in constant motion. 

Let’s not forget that basic, child-like joy of just being in the garden. To be able to marvel at the unfurling of a new leaf, appreciate the intricate complexity of a blossom, or admire a sturdy stalk stretching towards the sky—isn’t this part of why we garden in the first place?  Every day we may make a spontaneous discovery of something mysterious or even miraculous to inspire and amaze us. 

Turn over a random leaf— what, or whom, is beneath?  Last week a beautifully striped snail appeared, of a majestic splendor I have never seen before.  Last summer a katydid put on a camouflage show that was downright magical to behold. These are rare, special occurrences.  Blink and you might miss them. 

Fellow garden residents the darting wrens and hummingbirds, bees and squirrels make their desperate survival circuits.  We can appreciate their unflagging energy without imitating their perpetual rush and rapid heartbeats.  Our contemplations are calming at the same time they pique the curiosity.  Look up at those treetops are sinuously swishing in the wind. Look down at the spindly, spooky fungi springing up in those moist corners. Then, close your eyes and just relish that cool, delicious breeze.  Ahhhh.

After months of respectable garden toil, surely we have earned a little downtime by now.  So won’t you join me?   Put those feet up and take a load off. Allow yourself the luxury of a few moments to loaf.  Observe and admire your garden and all the wonders it holds. And if you find you just cannot resist the overpowering, ingrained urge to leap into action and deadhead this, water that, or whack the other?  It’s OK, we won’t judge you.