I’ve never had a green thumb.

Gardening requires patience and hope. Some would say it has taken retirement for me to acquire enough of both to even think about spending time with the soil. But then there is that willingness to put up with mosquitos and other types of bugs . . . and no amount of time is going to change that flaw in my character.

Now there are some insects I actually treasure . . . like this one seen along the July 4th parade route in Takoma Park. The sentiment on the sign fits perfectly for our times:

“The only Monarch I want is a butterfly.”

I agree! We can all enjoy celebrating true royalty of this variety!

But there are some parasites out in the world that one should take great pains to avoid.

Seriously, we have a lot going on in Silver Spring this summer, beginning with the unrelenting heat. And humidity. And mosquitos. And the purple line light rail construction on what seems like every block of downtown.

Not to mention all the challenges of the current regime in Washington, where the collective greed that is killing America is reaching its logical conclusion.*

But I’ve come to realize how much the work of gardeners is helping me make it through this summer. Nature of all types “gives us a model of persistence and the promise of new life.” So in the grand scheme of things it is important to preserve places such as forests and wilderness.

But in urban spaces crowded with people and buildings, much of what we see of nature is planned. Thankfully places such as flower beds also have an important role to play in helping us keep our sanity. Not only do the flowers, bushes, and trees model persistence, but so, too, do their gardeners.

Studies show that flowers lower stress, boost mood, and make you feel more connected.** And I know it is true because I’ve loved walking through our neighborhood, feeling my blood pressure drop; smelling the fragrances; treasuring the natural beauty of the drops of water on the petals; admiring the bees at work extracting the nectar and pollen.

Earlier this year flower gardens full of early risers, including some old chestnuts like the purple iris, my mother’s favorite, began to bring spring’s color and promise back to the streets of our town.

And now that we are in the heart of a hot but humid and wet summer, nature is bursting at the seams. Gladiolus are another old-fashioned flower, this one favored by my late mother-in-law. In our part of the world we also see the Black Eyed Susan, Maryland’s state flower, and sunflowers. The crepe myrtles—in a variety of colors—have been especially glorious this year.

I am not a flower expert by any stretch of the imagination. I just like to stop, enjoy, and occasionally photograph what I see along my morning journey.

Some of the flowers are in beds begun long ago, while others come from newer creations. In every instance the gardener had a vision; prepared the soil; planted seeds, cuttings, or a sapling; waited (sometimes for years with the flowery bushes); and hoped.

Gardening, like so many good things in life, involves imagination, effort, patience and hope. Every morning I say thank you—either silently, or in person when I come across someone working in their yard—for the patience and hope of gardeners.

More to come . . .

DJB

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*Thanks to the Jeffrey Epstein case, some folks are just waking up to other facts about our president. Donald Trump:

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**Halivand-Jones, J., et al (2005) An Environmental Approach to Positive Emotion: Flowers. Evolutionary Psychology.

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All photos by DJB from walks through Silver Spring and Takoma Park except for the parasite sign (photographed by Claire Holsey Brown in Alameda, CA); the monarch butterfly (the real one, not the “No Kings” version in Takoma Park); and the gardening photo (the last two are from Unsplash).