Welcome to my pit of despair. I say that with a cheeky grin and a bit of sarcasm, but not much. This is a disrupted and dead patch of land, directly in front of the regenerated back third, that lies on the old footprint of the demolished shed. The ground is uneven, full of weeds and sucker shoots sprouting from the downed Siberian Elm trees, and rock hard. It’s where we staged the 60 cubic feet of soil we had delivered when we installed our berm. As you can tell, it’s nearly one year later and I’m finally dispersing the last 3 yards into other garden beds around the property. Full transparency: this patch is just one of many dreadfully hideous spots on this land.

You’ve seen a few locations on my land transform at my hands from barren and desolate to blooming and lively. And what a joy those areas have become through my rewilding efforts! However, what I haven’t shared are all the other parts of our land that are still in their original state: neglected, overrun, and for the most part, lifeless. These are the areas of our property that are so depressing to look at that my eyes prefer to avoid them altogether. If I look at these eyesores long enough, feelings of overwhelm and discouragement quickly infiltrate. I’m careful to gaze just long enough to imagine what these areas will become: full of life, color, winding pathways, shapely beds, and loads of blooms. I remind myself that in time, so it will be, as long as I focus on completing one small project at time.

I think it’s easy, and preferable for most of us, to share only the beautiful parts of our lives (and gardens) online. As I said, it’s hard enough to look at them, let alone share them with the world. It’s a vulnerable statement to make. The downside to not sharing the unseemly aspects of reality is that we can all suffer in solitude, secretly believing that we are the only ones with challenges or depressing pits of despair. But I’m willing to wager that I’m not the only one here with some big ugly pits in their life that need addressing. In an effort to dispel any myths about a perfect garden (or hence a perfect life) that I may have inadvertently construed through my blogging, I’m here to unearth the reality. The majority of my garden is dreadfully ugly. Much of it needs an imaginative and scrutinizing eye. Much of it needs a hopeful heart and a willing hand to coax it back to life. I have that, and that's all I need.