26 years of therapy

What’s therapy got to do with it?

Stay with me on this. I have a destination, but I have to take you birdwatching and show you a few squirrels before I get you there.

It was Labor Day weekend in September 2000, and I had signed my divorce papers a few weeks earlier. My best friend, Patrice, and her husband, Ray, arrived on my doorstep, armed with shovels, an edger, and a landscaping plan for my yard.

Patrice is a Master Gardener and quite the expert at friendship. Her words were, “Janet, gardening is therapy, and you need therapy.” We laughed as I told her, “You know I do not like to sweat or get dirty.”

It had to be one of the hottest Labor Day weekends on record. Patrice’s design wasn’t just for a flower bed but for an intricate, curving layout that would have the neighbors oohing and ahhing for years to come. I might add I would be aching and ouching every year but loving it.

Patrice, ever so gently, gave instructions and guidance on what I needed to do to help with her and Ray’s efforts. Perennials and shrubs were strategically placed. Annuals would be added in the spring.

I don’t think I have ever sweated so much in my life. I had dirt in places that had never been dirty.

Patrice did more than just tend to my yard. She tended to my heart as well as my soul.

That was almost 26 years ago.

Did you know that gardening has been proven to be therapeutic? It lowers stress, boosts your sense of well-being, and reduces anxiety. Any major life change can wreak havoc on your entire being, but especially a divorce.

There is something about getting your hands in the dirt, uncovering an earthworm, and planting something that brings promises for a better day. Beauty will eventually be found.

Over the 26 years since Patrice made me sweat and get dirty, I have learned to tend my yard and flower garden with great passion and plenty of sweat. In my flower garden, I have found that the anticipation of new growth and blossoms is just the therapy I need.

Waking up to my Rose of Sharon, enticing hummingbirds with its nectar, makes my heart smile. The beauty of the pink blossoms hugs my heart.

When the Redbird perches on my birdfeeder, I’m reminded of how God gave our family hope, when my dad was diagnosed with Stage 4 kidney cancer and lived almost 30 years after his diagnosis. I’ll always look for a Redbird when I need hope.

And then there is Mulch Day. It’s a day I look forward to every year. There is something about placing the mulch around my plants that is like tucking them into bed for the summer.

Oh, and the squirrels aren’t happy with me since I put a slinky on the bird feeder pole. The critters are always entertaining except for the raccoons. They are evil. I have stories and the insurance claims to prove that true.

It’s not just the rain or the hose that has watered my flowers. My tears have added a bit of salty refreshment. I’ve been known to sing to my plants. “Consider the Lilies” is an old song that The Three of His Trio would sing on many Sundays at the Nazarene Church. Since my friend Barb’s passing some nine months ago, that song and my tears have become more frequent as I work in my flower beds.

Patrice had no idea I would still need therapy all these years later. The gift of her friendship keeps on giving. This year, we went shopping for Viburnum and Hydrangea bushes. I will continue to tuck annuals into the flower beds each spring. My heart smiles and my soul sings, proving the therapy is working.

As I finish this week’s column before I head out to mow, I plan on singing “Consider the Lilies” and “It is Well With My Soul.” I just love going to therapy.

Patrice, you were right. I needed therapy and will continue to need it. A little sweat and dirt are good for the soul.

Janet Hart Leonard can be contacted at janethartleonard@gmail.com or followed on Facebook or Instagram (@janethartleonard). She is the recipient of the Reporter’s Spring 2025 Ink-Stained Wretch award. Visit janethartleonard.com.