Patience is Virtually a Virtue

Patience has always been my strong suit. This attribute has served me well as a teacher. Although, to be fair, as I have aged, as my profession has changed, I feel that I am less patient than I used to be. With teaching at home, I have made a point to go on walkabouts around my yard prior to starting my work day. This morning, during my purposeful walk, I reflected on patience. Not surprisingly, I saw examples in nature that served to remind me that waiting is necessary with many things. When I stepped out of my door, I saw our spring flowers, fully open, soaking up the early morning sun as the fog was lifting. These flowers had tight buds during the recent week of cold nights. And just as the flowers had to wait to open, I had to wait to enjoy their beauty. From here, I walked past our lilac bush. The lilac is one of my favorite flowers. When they open, the scent is divine and the bees are often visiting as they buzz about. In Madison, blooms are already open. Here, a little farther north and closer to Lake Michigan,

our blooms are delayed. When I was in college, I loved the blooms opening around finals week mid-May, and then I'd come home for the summer and experience the blooming process all over again. There is beauty in these tight lilac buds, patiently waiting.

In the back corner of our property, there is a spring fed pond. The springs were flowing rapidly until last week. The rate has slowed as we approach June but the rains should create some ground pressure to kick them back in before too long. The Marsh Marigolds thrive on the banks of the pond. They are one of the early flowers to grace the area and the bright yellow is an attractive mix to the landscape.

We bought this 3.5 acres 29 years ago. We bought it for the yard as the house was a fixer-upper. Well, almost 30 years later and the house is still a fixer-upper! The yard, however, is completely transformed. Almost all of the land was grass when we bought it. I made a decision early on that I was not going to spend my weekends cutting the lawn. One section became a larger garden, roughly 70' by 180'. Two-thirds of it we provide to a friend, and the parent of former students of mine, to use for one of her gardens. Elsewhere in the yard, I let the grass grow long and then cut in a labyrinth for the kids. A few years later, we had some teachers build a pole building in that spot. In the middle back part, we started an English garden and then just stopped maintaining it. Despite being neglected, there are flowers still blooming there twenty years later. In the back corner, opposite the pond, I just stopped mowing. Along the back property line is another family and on both sides of us is a woods that isn't ours but it gives the feel that we live on a great estate. There was a retired farmer who owned one of the wooded areas. I admit, I coveted his woods. Often he'd go on walks around the big country block and sometimes we'd strike up a conversation, despite him being a man of few words. One time, I just let him know that I really liked his woods. He paused, thought carefully and then simply said, "Plant some trees." I did plant a number of trees throughout this property but my most success in this area came from simply ceasing to mow. Now I have my own small woods, with some 30 foot tall pine trees. There are a couple stands of birch and small conifers. This is a favorite spot for the deer to hangout and it is a favorite spot of mine to reflect, breathing in the pine air, listening to nature around me, and quieting my soul. In sum, after a couple decades, I got my woods. I am reminded of the adage, "We plant the trees for the next generation."

Lest the reader think I am always patient, I'll offer this evidence. I planted my seedlings indoors with the usual early, reckless approach. With several hundred seedlings occupying my dining room like the 1960s protestors in Madison, I was eager to find a resolution for the benefit of all. Consequently, I moved out some tomato plants a little too soon. I just wanted to harden them off and get them in the ground! This poor Sun Gold got too cold and I have it in its pot in my dining room as a reminder to myself to be patient. And speaking of tomatoes, I last went to the grocery store 32 days ago. When I was there, I bought three tomatoes. I still have this one left. I am saving it because I told myself I am not going to the grocery store for sixteen more days. Each day I see it on the counter, I wonder if today is the day that it becomes part of an omelette or a sandwich. This teaches me patience. Waiting for the first tomato from the garden in about ten weeks, teaches me patience. While this tomato is nice, it shouldn't still look like this after 32 days. It won't taste anything like the ones I pop in my mouth directly from the vine. Anyone who gardens or who has kind and generous friends who garden, knows exactly what I am referring to.

As I sit, Safer at Home, I have more chance to reflect. I don't need to go to the grocery store as often. With my greens producing and my preserved food from the past, I am able to get by. I have a long list for the next shopping trip but it can wait, much like the tomato on the counter, much like the flower buds. I am learning much while the pandemic continues on. In this case, perhaps the phrase is better as "patience is a virtual virtue", one that can be practiced very close to home.