Meet Bee Balm.
She’s not quite in bloom. I have a feeling that’s imminent, though, looking at those buds. She got planted in mid-spring as a treat to myself, along with a dwarf butterfly bush and three Spanish lavender plants.
These were my indulgences, the desires I gave into even though we are poor as church mice (maybe poorer, considering some of the local mega churches) as F. finishes school and my freelance work becomes harder and harder to find in the economic miasma that seems intent on touching everyone I know before it dissipates.
I wrote a post over the winter about how I envied several gardeners their luscious perennials, as nearly every flower in the Victory Garden had been raised from seed, leaving me with a fairly colorless plot until quite late in the season. I also lamented the fact that we are truly transient here, basically in a holding pattern as we begin to prepare for the leap after F.’s graduation. Not only are we in rented housing, but we know we’ll be leaving within months — and yet we still aren’t sure exactly how many months.
As of March, I wasn’t even 100% sure we’d be here for the entire summer season, making all my plans for the garden feel rather like halfhearted whistles in the dark.
Almost every comment from you, my encouraging readers, was something along the lines of “Go for it,” “Just do it anyway,” or “Plant what you love, take it with you in containers.” Of course, some of the advice may turn out to be useless if, for example, F. gets a position in Washington state or some other far-flung destination.
I am not going to carry a butterfly bush in a 10-gallon container on board a plane, no matter how beloved it is, especially now that I hear the airlines are charging for every ounce of baggage. Although now I think on it, the attempt might provoke some amusing interactions with airline staff.
(Still, better not.)
But now I am happy that I went ahead and gave myself a little gift and planted those five plants. They weren’t that expensive, really, but believe me, spending $30 felt like a real blowout on our currently dwindling budget.
The lavender was in bloom for my birthday, and that delicious scent made it all feel worthwhile.
My spring perennial additions make the garden feel more stable, and the whole area around the house looks a teensy bit more like a home. God knows I am so longing for a place of my own, a place I can put my stamp on, a place to put down some roots for the long haul.
For now, that’s not in the cards. Yet I can still indulge in the luxury of beauty, and pretend to a sense of permanency and economic freedom I have little right to claim now. It feels like stepping out on faith for the future: that it will all pan out, that we will find our way through these tough times and rejoice on the other side, that the front door opens not onto a wolf’s snarling visage — but a bee-kissed blossom, a ray of sunlight through the trees, birdsong spiraling up to the heavens.
That’s this week’s focus: indulging in a tiny luxury even when you’re feeling cramped by circumstance.
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Tho if you hadn’t spent the money you would not be getting to photo this lovely bee balm.
I wish you all the luck in getting where you’d like when F gets out.
Ellis W. Moore´s last blog ..Poem #7
Thanks for those encouraging words, Ellis. I had to laugh a bit, because the way you phrased it, sounds like F. is in prison.
(Sometimes it feels a bit imprisoning for him to be under so much pressure, actually.)
Living simply can be a pain, but so often it is possible to rediscover simple pleasures as result. My income is greatly reduced to what it once was so I can relate. I’m glad you went ahead a spent the money and I hope you get to enjoy the fruits of the loving care you have put into your plantings. How exciting to be able to look ahead to the future and what that might bring.
Lynn´s last blog ..Hialeah, accent and Nick and Nora
Well, Lynn, it is encouraging to hear that you, too, have made this transition and come out the other side to thrive.
You are right that I could approach this monumental change as more “exciting” than “scary,” as I seem to be doing right now. Thanks for that reminder about perspective!
Even the name “Bee Balm” is pretty. I’m so glad you made that $30 investment–I think you’ll reap that much at least in enjoyment.
Kathy´s last blog ..Sweet Summers
I think so, too, Kathy — although I’ll never name my child that. I once met a waitress in North Carolina, a very floaty type of girl, who told me seriously that she intended to name her children “Beebalm,” “Stillbee,” and “Yarrow.” Of course this blew my young mind.
I’m already reaping the enjoyment now. It was blooming when I awoke this morning.
I’ve loved and lost so many gardens in my lifetime. And with my hubby’s work we’ve moved so many times that if we’re in a location for more than 2 years I get antsy – lol! But I also know that while I’ve invested lots of money and sweat equity in the gardens I’ve long since left behind, the pure pleasure I got from the hours spent there make every bit of it worthwhile. We never know what the future holds, but while we’re in the present, we need to enjoy it completely and if that includes putting in some gorgeous plants then I think it’s a wonderful investment for the heart and soul.
Talon´s last blog ..A magical home…
“Sweat equity.” Gotta love that phrase. You’re so right about not knowing what’s down the road, but giving it our all!
I sincerely hope F. does not get a job where he has to transfer every two years. That sounds vaguely akin to torture to me. Blessings on you for being able to pick up and move your lovely perspective anywhere, Talon.
You make me so jealous that I don’t have a garden at the moment.
Merrilee´s last blog ..She sings!
Aw, Merrilee! And you’ve just reminded me to double up on counting my blessings. I’ve gotten so used to having the garden now, I forgot to put it on the list.