Karen, Magnolia, and I made the trek last Monday to Arkansas to see the total eclipse. Having seen it in 2017 in Tennessee, I knew how amazing the experience was and that it was well worth repeating.
I had been watching the weather forecast two weeks out, and Arkansas offered the only totality path nearby that had consistent mostly clear skies predicted. The six hour drive paid off. We had a clear glimpse of totality, all 4 minutes and 13 seconds of it. And, while I was ready to pull off the side of the back roads anywhere we could find a clear spot, we lucked out finding a regional airport with no obstructions and a small crowd. There were maybe 40 people there.
And, yes, it was just as amazing and awe inspiring as it was 7 years ago. As an educator, wonder and awe are the tradecraft of my life. I have seen many wonderful sights in my life, and yet for the eclipse words really can’t describe it. We were ecstatic and buzzing with energy afterwards.
So, what does this have to do with gardening?
In early 2023, I announced that we named our smallholding Ephemera Farm to celebrate the little things in life. And, as we drove back home, I began to think about how a total solar eclipse is possibly the ultimate in natural ephemera. It lasts mere minutes, and it is estimated only 1 in 10000 people see one in their lifetimes.
But, I started to kick myself as I started to think of everything I had done wrong. How could something so important have such little planning on my part for the duration of the event? Sure, cloud forecast watching for days in advance allowed me to find the perfect clear sky spot while other areas of Texas had cloud cover, and I had hauled us 6 hours from home to see something we may only see a couple times in our lives.
But, I had regrets.
Not leaving early enough the morning of
Not buying snacks the night before (although we did get gas)
Not scouting places in advance
Not buying another pair of binoculars for Karen
Not looking through the binoculars for longer
Not having the camera settings perfectly figured out
Not doing a video recording on my iPad.
Then, I realized that all of the regrets were because I missed the feeling of witnessing the eclipse, and I wanted to recapture every millisecond that I could. And, because it wasn’t perfect, it was taking away from the experience.
It’s often the same with the garden. Too often when I see something not perfect, I think next year I’ll do this differently. There’s penstemon that are too thick in one spot and blend too much with the gaura. Next year. I missed sowing a spring crop of peas. Next year. The entrance to the patch looks bare and weedy after moving the 1000 lycoris bulbs last month. Next year. I want to overhaul the kitchen garden design, and it’s not planted yet. Next year.
But, the eclipse doesn’t offer much in the chance of a redo. The next one coming through this area is in 21 years.
The one thing I did right during the eclipse was to be present, to really look at it. I had read online that some people spend the whole time looking at the eclipse through a camera lens. I didn’t want to make that same mistake. I remember much from that 4 minutes and 13 seconds—the darkness, the coolness, the appearance of twilight all along the horizon, and right before it ended holding the binoculars as long as I safely could, noting the prominences that were erupting off the sides. Sure, I may not have the perfect photo or video, but I was there.
In the garden many areas aren’t so perfect. There’s weeds and even some perennials I haven’t cut back their winter skeletons yet. I will say that raising a daughter means that there’s a few LOT more weeds this year than there have been in previous years. But, to have a bundle of joy and happiness is a worthwhile trade.
However, the garden beds near the house look the best they’ve looked in the 7 years we’ve lived here at Ephemera Farm. I’m so proud of them. I think too often I see one small thing that’s wrong and focus on that instead of appreciating the here and now. And, I have a feeling I’m not alone with those of you reading this perspective. I have to accept that things don’t have to be perfect in the garden. They never will be in a planting. That’s part of the beauty of it.
And, just like the eclipse, I just need to be present and appreciate what I have in the moment.
Magnolia and I sat outside the other evening enjoying the garden. The last butterflies of the night came flitting by as phlox perfumed the air. And, then we heard a Great-horned Owl hoot. Both of our heads turned toward the sound.
I looked up and saw the thin sliver of the crescent moon that had just days before blocked the sun during totality.
And, I thought about how in 21 years it’ll be the same moon that will once again cast totality on a path that will come through the southeast. It would be great if we could catch another total eclipse at some point, but realistically that’s the next one I’ll see.
But, for now, I’ll enjoy the garden.
