Making a garden is important to me, so my garden can (occasionally) look okay – or okay enough that someone compliments me on it.
Honey, I think at the time, all I see are the flaws.
Look at the picture above. Aren’t the tulips lovely? Are you like me, distracted by the stump of the Japanese maple, slowly succumbing to verticillium wilt? Or by the desiccated foliage on the Mahonia? Or are you asking, Stump? Mahonia? Where?
You are witnessing the tragedy of perfectionism. Tragic because, most of the time, it doesn’t stop me from gardening – it stops me from being happy, fully happy with what I create. And it sticks in sharp little guilt needles when a garden task remains undone.
Which reminds me. I still have bulbs to plant.
My biggest stumble in the perfectionist field – and this is a true confession that I haven’t spoken aloud to anyone – has been the blogger’s block that has followed my unexpected win of a Gold Medal for digital writing from the soon-to-be-renamed Association for Garden Communicators. Gold Medal? How can I live up to that?! Honestly, it has been a struggle.
But let’s shake off that heavy perfectionist’s mantle. It’s uncomfortable, it’s dragging in the dirt, and tripping us up. Let’s get those bulbs in the ground and those blog posts posted.
In our dad’s words, Anything worth doing is worth doing badly. The perfect is the enemy of the good, the okay, the done and dusted.