How Flowers Can Create Guilt

After spending some time purging the “back room” in the basement before leaving for holidays, I found a packet of seeds with the title “butterfly garden” in bright yellow letters. I don’t remember buying the seeds, and judging from the bin they were in, it must have been many years ago. I moved to throw them in the heaping garbage bag, but hesitated as I felt a surge of guilt flow through my veins. How could I be thinking of throwing out something that if cared for and nurtured, could turn into a living thing? I sighed because I really didn’t have time for this guilt nonsense, but I also couldn’t throw them out; old patterns creeping up my spine.

The envelope sat on my kitchen counter for a week and my husband finally asked me if I was going to do anything with them. I said I would get to it eventually but, I just hadn’t had time yet. “Why don’t you just throw it out?” he asked me. Not a second thought! Such disregard!! I quickly grabbed the package and went to the gardening shed where I found 4 old aluminum long abandoned pots and a bag of soil. I scanned the shed before closing the door, and noted that it needed a good clean up as well.....so much to do.....

What I did next is what a friend of mine once called “plant whacking”. It’s a procedure that takes all the beauty out of gardening, but is extraordinarily efficient. Another term could be “speed planting”. It’s when you shove some soil into the pot, throw the seeds in, shove some more soil over top and then pour some water on them as fast as you can. In 15 minutes you are done. There is no positive energy involved in this act. You could be cleaning the toilet instead and it would provide you with the same result; you simply needed to “get ur done.”

I think this is why the flowers grew as they did; tall, spindly, pitiful stems with one or two blooms at the very top. A serious analogy would equate their growth to that of a child who did not receive adequate love and attention. These flowers started their existence off with very little loving kindness. In fact, there was none at all. They were born from guilt; such a terrible beginning to the miracle of life.

As I look at them now, I chuckle a bit as I think that even the act of my writing about them is a consequence of guilt. I have walked by the window of my kitchen so many times and eyed their meagre existence, and I feel that I need to give them the attention that I deprived them of when they were little. And so, I took their picture and the time to post them on my blog. I whisper to them every day when I give them a drink, and I have apologised for having been so laissez-faire with them. I am hoping that they are the forgiving type for summer will soon be moving into fall and there is little time left for me to appreciate their unique existance.