I’m back in the garden again.  Cleaning out for the third day.  Thought I’ve lugged at least 4 wheelbarrows full of weeds (piled so high they keep falling off on the way to the dumping pile), it looks like I’ve scarcely made a dent.  Though there is that big empty space, in which I found  buried treasure yesterday.  A peppermint stick day lily, hydrangea, and Shasta daisies.  All standing tall once I uncovered them……for one whole day.

Because now that they’re not buried, the deer have come and eaten all the flowers off the plants.  Day lily – gone.  Daisies – gone.  Hydrangea – partly eaten.  Like they looked at everything and decided, “Yum.  Salad for dinner.”  Or breakfast.

(c) Kathleen Thompson

(c) Kathleen Thompson

I was heartbroken.  I’d just uncovered these poor plants.  They’d been languishing underneath these nasty weeds for 2-3 years, and just found their way into the light.  I had just discovered them and was appreciating their beauty.  And the next morning they were gone.  I could see the chew marks on the plant. As if someone had taken a knife and cut them clean.

It happens sometimes, doesn’t it?  We find something we didn’t know we had.  We get excited for – 5 minutes – and then it gets taken away and we’re devastated.  Even though we didn’t even know about it not too long ago.

Those flowers were what was keeping me motivated to keep going, and deer ate them like they owned the place.  Like it was their personal salad bar.  I felt the loss more than you’d think I would.  Especially that day lily.

Because I remember when Jerry and I bought that from a fram in Florida.  This company grew about 1000 different kinds of day lilies and sold them bare root so they could ship them all over the country.  The description of this plant was so amazing that I had to have it.  And it was as beautiful as they said.  Maybe even more so.  It’s the only one I have like that.  So it’s special.  And it got eaten in less than a day.

That makes me feel the loss even more than I normally would.

But I still have to get up and work in the garden again.  And now it’s important that I find another motivation than seeing beautiful flowers – at least this year.  Because who knows if I’ll find any more under the rest of the weeds? No, I’m going to do it because it’s the right thing to do.  For the joy of being outside playing in the dirt.  And not necessarily for the results.

Because even if the deer didn’t decide to dine at the Kathleen Thompson Breakfast Place, the garden’s going to take a while to look like a garden.  To look like someone planned and cared for it. The only way I’ll get to enjoy the fruits of my labor is to actually enjoy the labor for itself.

We so often do something for the results we’ll get in the end.  And what if they don’t happen?  In the time frame we want, or even ever?  What if that journey is simply one that will take us somewhere else?  The real path?  The place we’re really meant to be?  How do we keep going when we don’t see the fruit?

That’s a question I’ve asked myself so many times.  Because I’m one who plans for results.  Likes to see them.  Does what it takes to get there.  And in the past, though I’ve often enjoyed the results, I haven’t enjoyed the ride.  I’ve been completely focused on the results I wanted.  And was devastated if they didn’t happen.

There’s something powerful about striving for goals, and, at the same time, enjoying the journey just for itself.  Enjoying the work as its own reward.  Both can co-exist at the same time.  And when they do, greater things can happen.  Because we’re both focused and in a better head space.  We can observe what happens and shift our strategy as needed.  Because we’re not married to one outcome.

I’ve certainly seen that with my garden.  There’s been something cathartic about ripping out nasty vines.  And I’ve seen it as an allegory for the work going on in my heart and soul.  Getting rid of limiting beliefs that have been my companion for so long that I didn't see how they were choking the life out of me.  Digging out patterns of thinking and behavior that no longer serve me.

And then there’s just enjoying it because I get to feel and smell the dirt.  Connect with nature.  Spend time outside.

You can do this too.  Let the love of the work keep you going, and not rely on the results you’re hoping for.  And remembering why you do what you do doesn’t hurt either.  It’s what keeps us sharpening our skills, finding new ways to work, communicate, or lead.

Yeah, maybe it’s time to fall in love with your equivalent of cleaning out the garden.  With whatever your work is. No matter how nasty it seems at times.  And even when the deer decide to make it their personal salad bowl.  Even then.

What might change for you if you fell in love with your work?  Share in the comments.