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This past week, I saw my first robin. What else — besides the face-blasting winds — marks the arrival of spring?
Like other garden-philes, I began my mental planting shortly after the new year. I had visions of a faerie garden tucked into a corner of the yard, a new mosaic bird bath, and a tiled raised veggie bed, just a few of a hundred things I’d like to do at Head Acres this year.
Patti Dobson
And then, regret hit.
I realized that, like so many spring seasons before this, I had the same conversations, the same thoughts, the same plans. Then like so many times before, they were pushed to the wayside for a variety of reasons.
Self-reflection is a good thing. Sometimes difficult, but good nonetheless. The big takeaway: I’d like to waste less time visiting what I haven’t done at Head Acres, and plow ahead with some of my lofty garden plans. There’s a lot of therapy to be had digging in the dirt, inhaling the aroma of freshly turned earth. There, with a dog or 12, I can find peace.
This was a tough winter. We lost some very dear people, and their absence resonates in my soul. About two weeks ago, Dwight Waldo (Clovis) passed from this life to the next. My spirit twinges when I think of the Waldo Palatial Estates, and all of the work that he and Lona put into that sacred space.
No matter what my mood or circumstance, I always found peace in their garden and in their presence. How he and Lona loved puttering outdoors.
Lona unexpectedly died a little over a year ago. The loss was devastating, especially for Dwight, her faithful sidekick. The last time we visited, he talked about Lona, missing her, the times spent puttering in the garden, and that all he wanted was to be with her again.
The loss is palpable, as are the regrets. However, peace comes from seeing them in my mind laughing, dancing and puttering in the garden.
Happiness comes from seeing flowers from their garden begin to bloom at Head Acres, in spite of my plans and subsequent derailment of said plans. Much like those Waldo blooms that peek through the cluttered earth, the resolve to live and rejoice in each moment breaks through the hard crust of winter.
As I begin the process of clearing away the debris from winter, I can’t help but feel the presence of Dwight and Lona, and really, all of our loved ones who’ve traveled on to new life. The gardens soon will be filled with new plants and blooms, but more importantly, filled with treasured memories.
Each moment is a gift. May your garden be rich with new life and sweet memories.
Patti Dobson writes about faith for the Portales News-Tribune. Contact her at: