INSIDE THE BLOOMERIE GREENHOUSES AT PATINA MEADOW

Though outside the thick glass walls of the greenhouses, the natural world is still slowly rising from its winter slumber, within their shelter, new life bursts quickly from seeds set in moistened soil.

Under the cover of these structures, the call to grow is never interrupted by freezing temperatures. With careful tending, leaves unfurl and flowers bloom, even on days draped in frigid fog.

This season, I have ceded control of one of the spaces to my mother. Her keen eye for beauty, paired with a nurturing spirit, has created a lush, sensorial experience for herself and for grateful visitors.

Pots of herbs and scented geraniums, emitting aromas of rose, lemon, nutmeg, and more, fill every table, interspersed with charming concrete garden statues, forming vignettes that delight every sense.

When this space was under my dominion, I saw it through a utilitarian lens. Benches needed to be just so to maximize efficiency. Spickets needed careful spacing for ease when watering. The ground had to be clear for my hurried steps. But under her care, it has evolved into a garden folly, a place where functionality comes second to loveliness. Peering through this looking glass, I am reminded of her and a lesson she has taught me: never rush so much that you miss the beautiful things.

Weighty glass doors mark the end of her realm and offer a glimpse into mine.

My greenhouse is tuned to tasks. I study my crop planning spreadsheet to find which crops must be started on any given day, then trays are filled with dark soil, and seeds are set within dibbles formed by my now soil-stained fingertips. Each container is an answer to the covenant I have made with spring: “You bring the sun and the promise of growth, I will sow, water, and hope."

During these final dreary days of winter, this conservatory is the first place I visit with the morning light. The vibrant green of a new sprout serves as a beacon, drawing me like a moth to a flame. Each day brings change, as sprouts stretch taller, reaching toward the subtle shine of the sun through thick clouds. While my space is geared toward work, it does not lack allure. What is more beautiful than a beginning?

This week, benches are filled with trays, and the ground is graced with tulips, blooming much earlier than those planted outside, a gracious reminder of the privilege this space affords me. Their bright blooms shine brilliantly in the gloom.

When I retreat from this world, my boots crunch on the moistened gravel paths, and my eyes rest upon blanketed beds, patiently awaiting the roots of the plants I just left. I am reminded that humans are granted a grace by God to work with nature, and sometimes even to defy it. With that privilege comes a great responsibility.

We are called to be stewards. We are called to bring beauty to a dark world. We are called to grow. The story of your life is how you answer that call. Live boldly and wisely. Send out your seeds, create fertile ground, and watch how the world can change.

Love,

Leila