The most important thing is to enjoy your life – to be happy – it’s all that matters.” – Audrey Hepburn

Let’s start in the middle, shall we?

Though I did give-in early in the weed-killing process and used a fancy named, heavily manufactured weed killer, it was with eventual remorse. There was guilt. And fear. The fear created the guilt because in LA we worry about El Niño, drain run-off into the Pacific Ocean, and the Dodgers (not necessarily in that order). I did what sounded the most resourceful – I ‘Googled’. Yes, I used the magic of the wide world (world wide?) web as my modern-day microfiche and it did not fail me. Sure there were plenty of ‘experts’ who had conspiracy theories about weed killers and the Soviet Union, but a few legitimate gardeners gave solid advice – use white vinegar with dish soap, and place newspaper, and/or cardboard over the weeds after you pull them. Yep. Simple.

Let’s jump to the end…

I finished the garden, and within days I had a dozen empty gallon white vinegar bottles stacked in my big blue recycle bin. Less guilt. Side note, I have no doubt that the FBI has rummaged through my big blue bin and found the now dozens of empty white vinegar bottles, empty bags of mulch, bark, pea gravel, and soil with manure. I am confident that I am on a watch list for TSA. If questioned, I plan to spill the beans on the Soviet Union and weed killers. I bet they try to convince me that there is no longer a Soviet Union. Well, good luck. I’ve see all of the Bond movies. Maybe not all of them since the 1980’s. Bottom line, you can use healthy choices to keep away your weeds and grass. But ironically, that is not the moral of this story.

Now let’s go to the beginning… What garden? This is the lower level of our 4-terraced level yard. This is the level where the gas mower always ran out of gas (I started at the top! Why?)

This area is 1,000 square feet of tall grass. I say grass even though my mother once asked me, “You do know this is not really grass? It is just weeds.” Um, yeah, sure, okay, I guess I won’t need to go to that grass-growing class at Armstrong Garden Center this weekend.

She was right – and she was very right once the drought hit Southern California. Only the weeds showed up after rains. They would get very tall. And I would mow them, as if they were grass. But, again, not the moral of this story.

Back to the middle – maybe right of the center…

I had a very difficult couple of years and I needed to take action – real action. So much stress in my professional life had started to seep into my personal life, and the sacred sections of my heart and mind. I stopped recognizing me.

Then it dawned on me one day at work – leave your job – and I did, that day – I asked to be laid off, they did – and I was able to exhale for the first time in a couple of years. The very next day I ran off with the dog to Ojai where I walked, laughed, cried, got a massage, texted only the dearest of friends, bought art for a garden that was not built yet, and prayed. And prayed. And prayed. I didn’t know what to pray for, or if I should be so selfish as to ask for anything. I yelled in the car, I hid under the covers, and I talked to anyone about anything other than what I had just done. I was without a weekly paycheck, health insurance, and trust of others. Not the moral, but a destination. I was somewhere I had never been and I had created it. And the fun thing is that I had never felt so relieved, so sure of something, and so tired.

After 3 days the dog and I returned home with a trunk full of divine handmade garden art. With the help of the one friend I trusted in this precious moment, we had started the garden two weeks before so half was laid out and was patiently awaiting my return. These weeds and this garden would teach me to “enjoy my life”, for it was in the tall grassy weeds that I returned to me. The garden did not ask me to reinvent myself, it showed me how to rediscover me. To be happy. That is all that matters.

There will be more stories on the most personal steps of this journey, and how the art created a place for me to see me again – the red sign from an Ojai artist that reads “Give Thanks”, the St. Francis statue, the “prayer” bench we made by hand, the butterfly garden, the door and windows that create a sacred space… But, for this story, I want to show you the ending… for it holds the moral…