Hello there, readers. I want to pause and take a moment to thank you for returning and reading while I have been recovering from a particularly challenging medical event.

As much as I wanted to offer some profound and comforting words that would act as a balm for those of us feeling the emotional and mental fatigue of being human during this period in history, I am still welcoming my energy to return to me, atom by atom, each day. It’s the best I can do. And one of the lessons I have been practicing living this past year especially, is that my best is enough.

One of the things specifically that has been bringing me feelings of peace and happiness these past few months has been my new herb garden. It has been lovely to watch how various things interact with the plants growing in this bed, carefully filled with layers of oak leaves, old branches and twigs, our very own compost, as well as recommended mixes of soils and vitamins from our local garden center. The fritillary butterflies that grow from our passion vines, along with moths, bees, and traveling winged bugs come to love on our grape tomatoes. Almost daily, I walk out to praise the new leaves, branches, and heights each leafy tenant has grown, picking tomatoes and clipping herb leaves to join in a dish. Tsk-tsking the snails wriggling up from the earth to chow down, before chucking them over the fence. Carefully pruning the yellowed and browned stems, returning them to our compost to continue the cycle of growing. Bringing the water hose over for everyone to get a big drink. Separating the crowded stalks gently, so everyone gets the warm embrace of the sun. Delicately tucking in under a canvas sheet when the temperature plummets to frigid numbers. Happily sharing with friends and neighbors to make their own culinary delights. Watching, bemused, as the dogs sniff curiously at this strange bin in the yard that mom is fussing over.

The garden can hold many wisdoms that, perhaps, are just what we need right now:

Recognize that some visitors are here to help you fruit, and some are there to eat you

Sunshine and water are a right and a necessity for all living things

Do not fear the pruning shears, they’re cutting away what will no longer help growth

Keep flowering even if others think the season is over

A garden does not thrive in solitude or without help

As we approach the new year, we have hopes and ambitions for what will come, but none of us are certain. Just like the herbs and tomatoes have no idea how big they will get, or how much they will produce. They just keep going and growing. It’s the best they can do.