Of piles and plans

For a time during my early undergrad days, I lived in a furnished studio apartment on campus. I had lucked into it as a convenient and affordable place of my own. My culinary skills were seriously lacking and Mum rescued me more than once with a decent meal, but over time I learned how to manage my needs, my time and my finances for a decent student-quality of life. 

It was at the end of term that I truly relished having my own place and space. I spent hours writing final papers, moving from one assignment to the next, my desk piled with materials sorted by deadline. When I completed one, I simply moved the pile to the floor and tackled the next one in line. 

The result was a giant mess in my one-room space, but it represented progress and my version of the natural order of things: organize the work, do the work, ignore the mess and, when the moment is right (i.e., the final deadline has been met), tidy it all up. And celebrate. 

In these early days of our prairie spring, I am thinking back to those student days of mine, because I am realizing that I take the same approach to the work in my front yard. While there is no one waiting to grade my work, all my lovely perennials are working towards their own deadlines. And there’s a lot of natural detritus lying around them. For I am of the gardening school that says let last season's growth die down naturally and leave it there until all risk of frost is gone this season. Then, and only then, tidy things up. In the meantime, enjoy the bursts of fresh green growth poking its hopeful nose up through last season's dry leaves and withered plants.

Piles and plans. I think that sums up my approach to many things in life. Piles without plans can be problematic, but add in some plans and those piles become milestones along the path of natural progress. 

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A Post a Day in May No. 3: For the past two years, I have posted something to this blog every single day in May. This year, I hope to do it again.