of fiddler crabs and petunias

Gardening - it's always been a passion of mine. The cool feel and smell of the loam crumbling in your fingers, digging in the dirt, bringing life and color to a neglected spot. I love creating with nature's palette.

House of Quiet Light came with several established gardens, which I'm caring for and adding to. But there was a corner of the property, along a split rail fence that marked the edge of the marsh, that needed attention.

I went to a favorite garden center that specializes in natives for coastal living. I bought Northwind switchgrass, Mexican feather grass, Sea holly, Gaura and a few other plants.

Excitedly, I drove back to the house. I wanted to plant some things before sunset. So, I grabbed my shovel and went to the back corner of the property by the split rail fence. The marsh grasses were whispering in the breeze. An egret was fishing. Such a lovely spot.

I placed the switchgrass and feather grass where I wanted them. They would grow to create a nice foreground for the marsh beyond. I put my shovel in to dig the first hole, and immediately, three little fiddler crabs scuttled away. A bit startled, I chuckled and thought, "Oh my, I have displaced fiddler crabs." Apologizing to them for their trouble, I suggested they find a new home, hopefully close by, and proceeded to plant the grasses. As I continued planting, I noticed more fiddler crabs scurrying across the ground, going in and out of little holes.

Fiddler crabs are charming little creatures. They brought smiles, many smiles that day. I often find myself walking along that split rail fence, not just to check the grasses, but also to visit my fiddler crabs.

A few days passed. I was sitting on the deck, relaxing, reveling in the quiet, allowing a deep sigh to escape. While enjoying the marsh - alive with grasses bending in the wind and gulls calling overhead - I noticed a splash of color off to the right. There was a tiny petunia, bright as can be, growing out of a crack in the patio. I walked over and looked at her. She also made me smile. In the ensuing weeks, that little petunia became a metaphor for the journey that Chaz and I are now on.

Bloom where you are planted.

Though there may be difficulties and challenges, there is also always beauty if you stop, pause and pay attention.

Just the other day, I noticed that little petunia had ten blossoms. She was hardy, healthy, and strong. Her situation had not changed. She's still growing from a very small crack in the patio. The summer sun still beats down on her relentlessly. But she is persevering, pushing on, moving forward in spite of the difficulties - blooming beautifully.

We don't always choose where we are planted, but we can choose how we bloom there.