I don’t do thirty minutes of gardening daily.
But I do some gardening, most days.
Sometimes for hours. Sometimes nothing at all.
It evens out, but what’s apparent is how nurturing it is for me, especially after a long day at the office.
Coming home, running low on energy, even though I mostly just want to lie down on my bed and do nothing for an hour or two… if I don my garden clothes and step outside into the garden – the recharge starts immediately. And it’s definitely a significantly faster charge happening than the plonking-down-on-the-bed-scrolling-through-SoMe-feeds is.
So, I am vowing, yet again, to gift myself the joy of gardening, because that is what it is.
It is a gift. For me.
I sometimes forget that it is a gift (thinking it’s a burden).
I sometimes forget how nourishing it is (opting for the mind-numbing SoMe-scrolling instead).
I sometimes forget how the weariness just falls off me, when I bend down to remove some weed, when I put a few more seeds in a garden bed, when I get out the watering can and feed the thirsty plants (mistaking it for a chore).
I sometimes forget.
And I want to remember.
Because I deserve being nourished.