Joy in the mornings

The New York Times article I mentioned last week is still having a positive influence on me. As usual, I'm finding all sorts of things to marvel about, but after reading the article, I'm savoring those mysteries and wonders longer than usual. What a novel practice—dwelling on the good stuff instead of the negative! The mornings have been serving up a buffet of wonders, like seeing the family of four otters that visits our pond off and on throughout the summer doing flip after flip and then departing single-file up the slope, across the gravel drive, and down into the slightly swampy area on the neighboring property. Every spark in this week's installment appeared in the morning hours, providing endless pleasure.

First spark: Seeing otherworldly creatures

The "black swan" root

My eyesight has changed considerably in the last 10 years. I was always the best person to sit in the front passenger seat on road trips because I could read road signs way off in the distance. Now I find myself puzzling over things that really aren't so far away and trying to figure out what they are. Take, for example, this strange creature I saw as the pups and I were descending a hill on our weekly hiking date. Was it a swan? A snake preparing to strike? No, it was just a curled root of a fallen tree. It does bother me a bit that I can't quickly make things out from a distance anymore, but I prefer my initial interpretation of this natural sculpture. Even after I had solved the mystery, I decided to think of it as a black swan.

Second spark: Getting to know your feathered neighbors

A fledgling from a previous season

Taking a cue from that New York Times article, I downloaded the free Merlin Bird ID app on my iPhone. It's been such a fun addition! On Friday, I learned that a Carolina Wren and a Tufted Titmouse were providing the cheerful soundtrack for a stretch of our weekly hike. This morning, I decided to open the garage door to increase the airflow while I was on the treadmill, and as soon as it went up, I heard a lovely little song. Back into the house I went to grab my phone. When I returned, I recorded just 10 seconds of the outdoor sounds, and the app rewarded me with the news that a Northern Cardinal and a Wood Thrush were singing nearby. It made me feel like I had finally been introduced to someone I had always wanted to meet. And now that I know what their songs and calls sound like, I'll be able to welcome them like friends. (I just won't get photos of them because I don't have the right equipment!)

Third spark: Enjoying the tiny little things

My little backseat driver

At the end of every weekly hike, once the pups and I are back in the car and on our way home, I always stop and get a coffee drink as a treat for myself. It obviously wouldn't be fair for me to indulge in this celebration alone, so I take a bag of tiny dog treats along with us, and the pups get one every few minutes along our route home. Zoey usually sits in the front seat, which makes giving her a treat super simple. Charley hangs out in the backseat, which means I have to reach back between the seats and hope I'm holding the treat somewhere near his mouth. There's always a moment of hesitation, and then I feel tiny dog teeth gently sliding down my fingers until they pull the treat away. It is one of the greatest sources of joy for me—and it's clearly a joy for Charley, too, because if I don't reach back as often as he deems appropriate, he delivers one bark that clearly translates as "TREAT!"

What has been sparking wonder for you? Leave a note below!

Big joy from little things

When I started my subscription to the New York Times, I opted into receiving a couple of their regular newsletters. My favorite is the Well newsletter. It's full of helpful, encouraging advice. For example, just last week, I learned that what I've been doing here with the "3 Sparks of Wonder" newsletter is focusing on "micro-moments of positivity" and that such a practice is like taking vitamins for your well-being. Who knew? (The link above will take you to the article, but you do need a subscription to read it. But fear not: I can distill the information in the blink of an eye.) The tips encourage readers to consider the opposite of a pet-peeve—rather than thinking about the tiny little things that are a significant source of irritation (mouth noises when people eat is one for me), you think about the little things that deliver a jolt of joy (like gently caressing a stem of lavender and inhaling the scent or experiencing that exquisite moment when a crisp cookie, recently dunked in tea, first makes contact with your taste buds).

As usual, I challenge you to find these little bits of wonder and revel in them. Here are a few of mine from the last week.

First spark: Velvet antlers

During our Friday morning hikes, the pups and I often see deer running through the woods. Last Friday as we headed down a connector trail, I was surprised to see a young buck standing just 20 feet away from us. The dogs never saw him, but he and I regarded one another for a good 30 seconds. What made our encounter so special was seeing his sweet little velvety antlers.

Second spark: Attention to detail

Sometimes I really miss the two bakeries I could walk to when we lived in Rochester, Michigan. Thinking of them sometimes leads me to lament that I have nothing so nice around here—except I really do; I just need little reminders to counteract the dreaded negativity bias. There is, in fact, a lovely bakery and cafe that makes beautiful little two-bite (and multiple-bite) desserts just 15 minutes away by car. And over the weekend, I discovered that a Publix nearby makes some impressive desserts as well. I hated the thought of sliding my fork into this thin slice of cake because the chocolate embellishments on top were so gorgeous. But don't worry—not only did I sink the fork through the beautiful layers of chocolate, I ate the whole thing!

Third spark: Fuel for fermentation

I think I have tried growing cabbage every year for the last four or five years, and each time, it's like I have hung a flashing neon sign in the garden that says, "All-You-Caterpillars-Can-Eat Buffet Open." I have even tried to check the young cabbages every morning and evening to reduce the damage, but those caterpillars always win—until this year. I have three little cabbage heads ready for harvest! I picked one yesterday, and now it's bubbling away in a fermentation jar on the counter. In a week or so, it could be the best sauerkraut I have ever tasted just because it's homegrown.

What has sparked a little wonder for you in the last week? Leave a comment below! And if you're not already a subscriber to 3 Sparks of Joy, you can take care of that at the bottom of the homepage!

The beauty of planting new things

For the last few years, I have been trying to ignore a very obvious issue in side porch garden— it doesn't have enough plants in it.

I'll pause for a moment so you can laugh. After all, what gardener thinks they have enough plants? Is that even possible?

The trough in the middle of the yard

But this time, it's really true. We hired a landscaper 10 years ago to put a walkway from the parking pad to the front door because I was so frustrated that guests to the house were driving past the parking pad, parking at the garage instead, and entering our house through the garage, the least welcoming approach to our home. While the landscapers were here, I asked if they could remove the grass from an area tucked into the corner where the house and garage meet. I was trying to cope with a strange trough water feature the previous owners had left behind, and I thought creating a garden around it would make it sit a little better in the landscape. And, to be honest, I wanted a really big border like those I've seen in grand English gardens.

I think it's safe to say that I was overly ambitious with the line I drew for the front boundary of this bed that is defined on all other sides by sidewalks or the driveway, though in my defense, the trough's position made a large bed necessary. I'm not super inclined to do a lot of math, so I didn't consider how many plants would be required in such a large space. It quickly became abundantly clear that the answer to that question is "a lot of plants."

My attempt to conceal the trough

I initially bought 15 plants and dotted them about the garden with the hopes that as the years went by, they would spread and fill in the gaps. With each passing year, I've added more plants, which have helped, but then the deer and rabbits have removed some plants that were doing quite well at taking up space. Take for example the Rudbeckia (black-eyed Susan) that graces this website's homepage. It made the front of the garden sing in autumn, but in one night, every last stem was gone, and now I have trouble keeping any in front of the house. Then the water feature started to fall apart, so I removed it, giving myself even more space to fill.

The garden after the trough

The point is, there are a lot of gaps in the garden, and they create two significant problems. First, there's no real cohesion to the border. The plants are all functioning like soloists rather than members of a symphony. While there are moments when a section of the garden looks lovely because something is blooming profusely, much of the time the area simply looks neglected. The goal of garden design is to lead a visitors eye across the entire area, rather than hoping they'll look at one thing, then scan the area for something else of interest.

The other major issue is that nature abhors a vacuum. If I have learned one thing from visiting other gardens and that I must pass along to everyone, it's that plants really shouldn't have more than a foot of space between them. You can initially plant perennials 18–24 inches apart, but don't go further than that.

When you leave ground uncovered, it's like putting out a call to every weed in the tri-county area to come and stake its claim—and it will. Then the gardener will spend half of their time on hands and knees forcibly removing these weeds and the other half walking past the garden with eyes averted and head down in shame. And that's where I've been living for the last few years.

But no more.

I have just added 20 new plants, and I have a renewed sense of hope. Two types of Ajuga will add a lovely purple-blue haze and (and hopefully snuff out the light for any lurking weed seeds) and others that will provide blooms throughout the season. I've carefully checked that all of them are at least unappealing to deer and rabbits. Those that are particularly unappealing—like Nepeta 'Cat's Meow' (catmint)—are tucked rather closely to things that have suffered damage in previous years, including a few Rudbeckia transplants from the pool garden.

Adding new plants to your garden is a bit like buying new clothes. It will certainly rejuvenate the area. Plus, if you choose new plants carefully, you can often resolve problems that previous plants may have created. More than anything, though, new plants are full of potential, and adding them to your garden can give you a spark of joy, a burst of hope, and potentially a little excitement.

A few of the new plants...and now we wait

Be sure to take photos when you first plant these new additions. If all goes well, you'll be amazed by how they change from year to year. With time, patience, and care, they'll be a source of delight for many seasons to come.