Hello fellow lovers of all things green,
One of the greatest gifts nature and gardens offer is teaching us to do nothing—and, in doing so, discover everything important.
Well, perhaps not in my vegetable garden. It could be a case study in what happens when you don’t do enough. Its harvest certainly isn’t abundant, but the fruits it does give me bring enormous joy.
After a particularly long workday—an hour-and-a-half drive each way and eight hours of pruning, weeding, and hauling debris after the landscaper never showed—I came home exhausted. But of course Jolee needed a walk. Afterward, we wandered into the vegetable garden. It honestly is a bit of a mess.
Ten perfect green beans from the lone survivor of my first planting felt like tiny treasures.
The zucchini plants are sprawling everywhere, flowering beautifully but not producing fruit. While the beets aren’t really ready to harvest, I picked some anyway because I adore the greens.
Earlier in the season, deer nibbled my first planting of green beans before I staked the garden and added deer netting. Only one plant survived, though I planted more seeds, and thankfully more beans are growing.
The Joy of Enough
One of my favorite parts wasn’t just harvesting—it was washing, preparing, photographing, and savoring each vegetable
Hanging from that lone survivor were ten perfect green beans, dangling like tiny ornaments. I loved harvesting them. They were delicious in a stir fry with beet greens, garlic, olive oil, salt, and pepper. Just as enjoyable was washing them, photographing them (call me odd), preparing them, and eating them.
While all this was happening, I was chatting with my hospice singing partner, Ken Roberts. Afterward, I told him I needed to “veg out.”
He laughed and asked, “So, what vegetable would you be?”
“A beet, of course,” I answered. “I’m beat…and I ate beets.”
A small harvest can bring enormous joy. Ten green beans, one perfectly ripe cherry tomato, and Malabar spinach reminded me that gratitude often grows from life’s simplest gifts.
The Gift of One Cherry Tomato
My tiny harvest gave me such joy. Given everything happening in my personal life, coupled with the busy work season, I haven’t been able to give my garden the attention I’d hoped for. Yet so many fruitful things are growing elsewhere in my life. Those modest vegetables became even more meaningful because they were few.
Fresh from the garden to the skillet— made memorable by the joy of growing them.
My birder buddy, Dennis Briede, generously shared extra cucumbers, wax beans, and something entirely new to me—garlic scapes. They’re the curling flower stalks that grow from hard-neck garlic. Gardeners remove them so the plant puts its energy into developing larger bulbs. They have a mild garlic flavor and are delicious sautéed, grilled, or blended into pesto—another unexpected gift from a garden, even though it wasn’t mine.
Then there was one cherry tomato.
It ripened perfectly and dropped onto the ground. I picked it up, brought it inside, and savored every bite with gratitude. More tomatoes are growing now, but there was something about that first one.
Perhaps that’s the lesson: to receive everything life gives us with that same appreciation—whether it’s one cherry tomato, ten green beans, or the kindness of a friend.
Doing Nothing Isn’t Really Doing Nothing
Birdwatching reminds us that doing nothing is often far from doing nothing at all. This robin tending her nest inspired an earlier reflection, Robins of Renewal in the Garden.
Doing nothing doesn’t mean we’re accomplishing nothing. The most important thing we do may be noticing.
Dennis practices something he calls a “sit.” He’ll spend as much as six hours on his deck with binoculars and a notebook, recording every bird species he sees. Six hours! I don’t know if I can manage that, but perhaps I can begin with one.
Maybe that’s exactly what we all need right now—to sit, watch, and listen, and witness nature unfolding. Life unfolding.
Someone might ask, “What are you doing?”
You could honestly answer, “Nothing.”
Yet you’re really doing quite a lot.
Whether it’s watching a spider weave its astonishingly symmetrical web or listening to birds call to one another, you’re noticing the rhythms of nature that so often mirror our own lives.
Nature’s Invitation
Birdwatching has become increasingly popular. Studies suggest it reduces stress, sharpens our attention, lifts our mood, and helps us feel more connected to the natural world. What appears to be doing nothing is actually restoring something deep within us. It restores our souls.
Gardens and nature teach us that we don’t control life. We participate in it.
Sometimes by working hard. Sometimes by patiently waiting. And sometimes by doing nothing at all except watching, noticing, and allowing ourselves time to be restored.
Nature and gardens are always speaking. Our role is simply to slow down long enough to listen.
Garden Dilemmas? AskMaryStone@gmail.com or tune in on your favorite Podcast App.
Prefer to Listen?
This story is also a feature in this week’s episode of Garden Dilemmas, Delights & Discoveries, with additional reflections from the screen porch:
If you enjoyed today’s reflection, you may also enjoy my earlier post, Stillness Teaches Growth Through Nature, where winter’s silence offers another reminder that growth often begins when nothing appears to be happening.
Links to Other Related Posts & Podcasts You’ll Enjoy:
Robins of Renewal in the Garden
Leave Room for Wandering: Unexpected Greenhouse Treasures
