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The therapy of a garden

I have been taking in some garden therapy lately, I have a small garden but I really wanted to maximize the space- so I started thinking about what I could do with it. Having a lot of concrete I decided to take it out and replace it with soil for new plants to grow in, I also wanted to create a mud garden for my little one.

I went to home depot and brought a sledge hammer to break up the concrete, little did I know when I started how deep the concrete would be...! It was more than 5 inches thick and the job was harder than I imagined.

As I began to drop down the mighty hammer I was disappointed at there being no success, 30 minutes and lots of sweat later, I was ready to give up and return the hammer- to admit my defeat. I decided that I would give it one last try. I lifted up the heavy hammer high into the sky, Boom- as the hammer struck the slab a mighty crack drew across the middle.

I felt a pang of hope and my body began to tremble with excitement, I lifted it up again, as I drew the hammer down the crack deepened and the cement started to tear apart. The more I carried on away the more symbolic and deeper the experience became.

It felt so cathartic. It reminded me of someone close to me who not so long ago tried to break my spirit. Now in reflection I begin to recognize that it didn't happen at once but like the cement block it happened by that someone chipping away at my confidence bit by bit until the cracks began to appear and that gave space for those final fateful blows. My recovery had been long and hard.

After a week of hammering and deep contemplation, I removed the concrete and stood back for a moment to look at the hole it had left in the ground. It was a deep hole and it changed the whole dynamic of my little garden. I took a bag of rich new soil and poured it inside the hole, then another one, I began to get excited.

I got in my car and drove to the garden center to find the most beautiful and fragrant plants I could find- such as wisteria, roses and lilies. I whispered a prayer as I planted the new flowers, I vowed to replace and rewrite my story.

I felt so much hope, I began to ponder that because you can not see the fruits of your work it doesn't mean to say that under the surface things are shifting and that you are chipping away at a bigger, better picture.

I finally finished my little dream garden and sat down with a cup of tea as a hummingbird flitted its wings around me.

I had in front of me my sketches and designs of so many little baby shoes and diaper backpacks, variations of baby mary jane's, baby moccasins, baby oxfords and the new monster and dragon shoe designs.

I smiled as I looked around at my new garden and began to feel hope tingling inside me as I breathed in deeply the smell of jasmine and wisteria.


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