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The briefness of blossom

The blossom has come and gone. Overnight the plum tree scattered its white and soft pink petals across the grass. It catches me off guard, even though I know how it goes. That’s what makes it beautiful: its timing, its tenderness, the way it shows up fully and then lets go.

In the garden, change isn’t a problem to solve — it’s the way things work. Nothing stays the same. Not the flowers. Not the light. Not us. Everything is moving forward quietly, in its own time. Our job is to notice the beauty, not to capture it or hold onto it, but simply to witness the turning of a plum from blossom, to leaf, to fruit, and eventually, to rest.

The blossom isn’t clinging to anything. It’s not asking for more time. It came, it bloomed, and now it’s gone. It did what it was here to do. Maybe that’s the real lesson. That it’s okay for things to change, soften and move on. Letting go doesn’t mean something didn’t matter. It just means it had its moment.

We are allowed to love what doesn’t last. And maybe, in its briefness, the blossom gives us permission to be brief too — to not have everything figured out, to bloom and then rest, to show up fully even if just for a moment.

Why butterflies avoid the rain

I recently learned that a butterfly pauses when it rains because it damages their wings. When a storm approaches, they take shelter under leaves, in crevices, or within dense vegetation. Their delicate scales are crucial for flight, and heavy rain can put them at serious risk.
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There are days when I push through in the garden, no matter the weather. But there are also moments when I wonder if the storm is a sign to pause, to accept nature’s gift for the day.
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Perhaps, like the butterfly, we should allow ourselves to rest—to find safety—when life feels unsteady 💚

Zen and the art of raking

In traditional Zen gardening, raking gravel into patterns is a form of meditation that mirrors the mental state of the gardener. But some Zen monks deliberately erase their work after completing it. Not out of frustration or imperfection, but as a practice of non-attachment.

This act reinforces the idea that beauty, like all things, is transient – even in the Garden.

Thank you

Wishing you a weekend full of sunshine and joy.

This newsletter will always be a work in progress. Let me know what you think and what you’d like from it by just dropping me an email.

Thanks so much for reading 💚

-Hetty