A collection of beautiful shades of green in my garden. Some are deep and rich. Others are bright, tender, and new. The soft green of young waterleaf just beginning to unfold under the flourishing green of olugbu, the bold green of mature green peppers, jalapeño peppers, and habanero pepper plants, the weathered green of cantaloupe leaves and cucumbers that have endured heat, wind, and rain and are still holding on. Harvested, ripening habanero plants; and even the dark green of okra plants with young, tender pods.
This time, it was not
one particular flower, fruit, or harvest that caught my attention. It was the
whole garden palette, the many greens growing side by side, each one beautiful
in its own way.
Green represents so many
beautiful things: nature, growth, renewal, health, well-being, abundance,
prosperity, calm, balance, hope, and optimism.
Perhaps that is part of
why being surrounded by plants feels so refreshing and peaceful. When life
feels noisy, uncertain, or simply too fast, the garden invites me to slow down
and notice what is quietly happening. Leaves are opening. Roots are reaching
deeper. New growth is appearing in places that looked unchanged only a short
while ago.
The garden also reminds me that growth does not always
arrive with fanfare. Sometimes it is almost invisible. A plant may seem still
above the soil while its roots are strengthening underneath. A new leaf may
begin as the smallest curl before it opens fully toward the light.
And perhaps our lives are like that too. Not every season
of growth looks dramatic. Sometimes renewal looks like choosing hope again.
Sometimes it is taking one small step, finding the strength to begin again, or
simply remaining rooted while life changes around us.
Every shade of green
seems to whisper, ‘There is life here. There is growth. There is hope.’
So today, I am
grateful for the greens around me, for the calm they bring, the renewal they
represent, and the gentle reminder that growth does not have to announce itself
to be real. Sometimes all we need to do is slow down long enough to notice it.
Growth does not have to announce itself to be real. Sometimes hope looks like a fresh green leaf quietly reaching toward the light.
Garden & Reflections offers a glimpse into the experiences and everyday lessons that shape me beyond the therapy room. These personal reflections are shared thoughtfully while honoring the professional boundaries of the counseling relationship.