I have a little garden at the back of my house. Nothing grand, a postage stamp really. It is filled with half chewed pieces of thick branches, soccer balls – some flat with holes, chew toys. A hedge that is too high surrounds my patch of grass. A lawn that is patchy with tufts. I wonder quite often about how to change the little spot of grass that I reign over. Put a pathway here, a spot to sit and enjoy tea there. Plant a tree. Remove that shrub. Change things. The thoughts and ideas race through my mind. I become breathless just thinking about it. And why? I stop myself looking through my window to the back and ask what is so pressing back there?

My mind is free to wander and make plans. Right now, right here even as I look critically at the grass that is too long, the trees that need shaping and the hedge that needs trimming, I spy the bees visiting the purple foxgloves. The peonies are flowering in all their glory and the full heads are hanging heavy today. It rained last night. The hedge is full and green. The trimming can wait. The birds are silent now after a busy morning.

I cast my gaze to the grass that just a moment before desperately needed mowing and enjoy the sight of the small white flowers and clover turning their faces toward the light. The mowing can wait. The trees sway in the gentle breeze and I know the branches give a welcome relief from the blazing summer sun. I decide that that task too can wait.

With the urgent items erased from my to-do list, I sit back and enjoy the view. The day lilies that make their appearance for the first time in this garden – bright spots of yellow spreading their perfume in the air. The daisies that can’t quite figure out how to stand straight. They sway drunkenly on the breeze, some taking a breather on the earth before rising again. The regal foxgloves in all of their glory stand like guards in disguise at the border of my little garden. The chocolate flowers are the colour of rich dark chocolate and they mix with the hostas and the ferns. The rhododendrons in the corner are a bit tired now and on their last legs but oh how they have shone brightly this spring. The rosemary and thyme stand at the ready and when I brush against them they give out their wonderful scent. The thistles, tall and prickly, will soon open their miniature purple flowers and the silent corner will buzz with life. The bees love them.

My dreams begin in my little garden. My paradise. My anguish calms. My thoughts meander instead of race. My garden at the back of my house needs no changes today. The work can wait. Today, it is perfect just as it is.