My parents visited today. My dad carried a huge outdoor planter pot filled with two bags of Miracle Grow potting soil. My mom arrived with an assortment of delicata squash from the farmer’s market, a ripe pomegranate, pickled takuan from the Japanese market, and two bags of different daffodil bulbs, gardening gloves, and a hand shovel- all while balancing an orchid in her other arm.
“This is for that big presentation you gave last week.” It was a celebration orchid. I smiled with delight.
Growing up, my grandparents owned Sakai Rose Nursery. When my grandma passed away, my mom transplanted a few of her rose bushes, Columbine flowers, and orchids from her Richmond backyard into their backyard. It’s a tangible reminder of Grandma, vibrantly blooming with each season. Flowers have always been our love language.
“Don’t we plant these in the spring?” I asked, holding the bulbs.
“No.” answered my mom. “You plant them now, and wait through winter, and they bloom in the spring.”
So tonight at 8pm, when the temperatures were cooler, I planted the bulbs. Six inches deep, six inches apart. I didn’t use the gloves. I immersed my hands in the softness of the soil and inhaled the sweet scent of dirt and earth while listening to the crickets sing.
In my coaching work, I often encourage my clients to take the time now to do things that will support their future self. Meal prepping now may be inconvenient, but their future self will be so grateful to have a healthy alternative available during the busy workday. Walking early in the morning may feel difficult at first, but your future self will feel more energized and grounded.
I thought about this as I planted the bulbs. I was planting them for my future self. A deliberate act of curating beauty for a soul that’d be hungry for a reminder of new life and rebirth after the bleak days of winter and endless rain.
When these daffodils bloom and brighten my porch in the spring, I’ll remember tonight. How my current self took the time to bless my future self. How they were planted under the moonlight with faith and fortitude, in the middle of a pandemic.