Last year I tossed a huge cluster of dried up zinnias over the back fence.
The cows stepped on them, nibbled on them and probably pooped on them, too.
As the fall came, I tossed leftovers: slimy broccoli, old grits, forgotten gravy over the fence.
Don't let me forget about the blackened bananas that were 'one day soon' going to become banana bread.
As winter came, I tossed forgotten baked potatoes, wilted celery and yellow spinach over the fence.
A few weeks ago, on a warm spring day, I carefully poured potting soil into sculptured cement squares.
5 days later, little green shoots emerged, reaching for the sky.
2 days later, they leaned over.
1 day later, they turned brown.
And I am sad, because I love zinnias.
Let me tell you some history now. Every year, for nearly 16 years, I've planted zinnias. Not so I can have flowers, but for the weeds.
Yes, I planted flowers for the sole purpose of pulling weeds.
"It'll help you express your feelings." A wise woman told me.
I wanted my life to change, so I listened to her.
When I'd feel anger rise from my feet, and fly towards my face, I'd step outside to visit the weeds.
Kneeling down, I'd yank the weeds by their roots.
Interesting strings of words formed in my head as I pulled.
'Why does it have to be this way? Why can't I....Why can't he...My life isn't..."
I'd pull for a while, I'd sweat and make a pile of weeds, then I'd go back inside. Calmer.
That's how it started anyway.
Things changed. No. I changed. I wasn't angry anymore.
I began talking to God while I weeded. He showed me that I needed let go of the things I couldn't change.
With a clear head, I made better choices.
I continued to plant zinnias, and they greeted me each day as I came home from work.
I had a large flowerbed beside my mailbox, then another one beside my garage.
The large multi-colored blossoms were quite brilliant.
They made a fabulous back drop for photos of my kids, kids friends, pets, just about anything looked more beautiful with the zinnias behind them.
I have a new home, a new life and no more anger.
So, I planted the zinnias. I used the best potting soil. I watered them faithfully. They died.
I consoled myself.
"Oh well, we have lots of others that are doing great."
But I wanted zinnias.
Last week, I walked to the back fence, to toss out some old spaghetti.
I looked down, and noticed some little round green leaves amongst the grass and weeds.
They looked familiar.
"Maybe it's the sunflowers I planted last year that never grew." I told my husband.
I've kept an eye on them for two weeks, waiting to see them shoot up and grow smiling sunflower faces.
Yesterday, I studied these little green plants, that are now about 6 inches high.
One of them had a bud on it.
"It's a zinnia!" I hollered to no one except myself.
I opened the gate to the back field last night, and walked to the area where I saw the zinnias
The grass is above my knees, almost to my hips,
But I could see small green leaves, five, ten, no, twenty, oh there's another one and another...
"Twenty eight zinnias!" I hollered to my husband as he sat on the back porch.
This morning, I got up around 6:15 and went to check on my zinnias.
One is about to bloom.
The other 27 are in the tall grass.
"I must weed!"
I marched inside, found a pair of scissors and went back to the field.
Blade by blade, I trimmed the grass, cut away the weeds, to give the zinnia's a chance to show me their beauty.
Throwing dead things over the fence is important.
When I let go, then God can give me beauty.
God gave me zinnias.
Effortless Zinnias.
The cows stepped on them, nibbled on them and probably pooped on them, too.
As the fall came, I tossed leftovers: slimy broccoli, old grits, forgotten gravy over the fence.
Don't let me forget about the blackened bananas that were 'one day soon' going to become banana bread.
As winter came, I tossed forgotten baked potatoes, wilted celery and yellow spinach over the fence.
A few weeks ago, on a warm spring day, I carefully poured potting soil into sculptured cement squares.
5 days later, little green shoots emerged, reaching for the sky.
2 days later, they leaned over.
1 day later, they turned brown.
And I am sad, because I love zinnias.
Let me tell you some history now. Every year, for nearly 16 years, I've planted zinnias. Not so I can have flowers, but for the weeds.
Yes, I planted flowers for the sole purpose of pulling weeds.
"It'll help you express your feelings." A wise woman told me.
I wanted my life to change, so I listened to her.
When I'd feel anger rise from my feet, and fly towards my face, I'd step outside to visit the weeds.
Kneeling down, I'd yank the weeds by their roots.
Interesting strings of words formed in my head as I pulled.
'Why does it have to be this way? Why can't I....Why can't he...My life isn't..."
I'd pull for a while, I'd sweat and make a pile of weeds, then I'd go back inside. Calmer.
That's how it started anyway.
Things changed. No. I changed. I wasn't angry anymore.
I began talking to God while I weeded. He showed me that I needed let go of the things I couldn't change.
With a clear head, I made better choices.
I continued to plant zinnias, and they greeted me each day as I came home from work.
I had a large flowerbed beside my mailbox, then another one beside my garage.
The large multi-colored blossoms were quite brilliant.
They made a fabulous back drop for photos of my kids, kids friends, pets, just about anything looked more beautiful with the zinnias behind them.
I have a new home, a new life and no more anger.
So, I planted the zinnias. I used the best potting soil. I watered them faithfully. They died.
I consoled myself.
"Oh well, we have lots of others that are doing great."
But I wanted zinnias.
Last week, I walked to the back fence, to toss out some old spaghetti.
I looked down, and noticed some little round green leaves amongst the grass and weeds.
They looked familiar.
"Maybe it's the sunflowers I planted last year that never grew." I told my husband.
I've kept an eye on them for two weeks, waiting to see them shoot up and grow smiling sunflower faces.
Yesterday, I studied these little green plants, that are now about 6 inches high.
One of them had a bud on it.
"It's a zinnia!" I hollered to no one except myself.
I opened the gate to the back field last night, and walked to the area where I saw the zinnias
The grass is above my knees, almost to my hips,
But I could see small green leaves, five, ten, no, twenty, oh there's another one and another...
"Twenty eight zinnias!" I hollered to my husband as he sat on the back porch.
This morning, I got up around 6:15 and went to check on my zinnias.
One is about to bloom.
The other 27 are in the tall grass.
"I must weed!"
I marched inside, found a pair of scissors and went back to the field.
Blade by blade, I trimmed the grass, cut away the weeds, to give the zinnia's a chance to show me their beauty.
Throwing dead things over the fence is important.
When I let go, then God can give me beauty.
God gave me zinnias.
Effortless Zinnias.
