This is my garden? This is MY garden!
How I (over)compensate for regret about a life choice made decades ago.
Happy Earth Day, friends! I’m not typically someone who celebrates arbitrary holidays like National Donut Day or whatever, but this one? Absolutely.
Due to shitty decision making in college, I ended up with a journalism degree when what I really wanted was to be a wildlife biologist. After graduation, miserable in the newsroom, I didn’t have the money, time or means to go back to college and try to pass pre-calculus after failing the first time. Instead, I became an armchair biologist.
These days, I’m the person my friends turn to when they want to know if it’s normal for bluebonnets to blossom in February (it is), or if they just saw an eagle (no, it was a crested caracara). I have the iNaturalist and Merlin Bird ID apps on my phone, and a jewelry collection that’s almost entirely nature-themed, including possum bone earrings and a silver stingray necklace.
And I have my front yard here in Austin. I like to joke that people walk by and see me out there among my plants and think “oh wow, she must be compensating for something…”
Oh, if they only knew.
Our yard is messy, wild, and weird. There are unicorn planters and mermaid skeletons and wind chimes made out of deer vertebrae. And there are so many plants — the kind that grow here naturally, the kind that attract native butterflies, insects, birds, and annoyingly charming mammals like squirrels and raccoons. My goal is to be able to look out my window and see a pollinator within 10 seconds, any time of year. We’re still battling invasives (some of them gorgeous — like confetti lantana) and we inevitably lose a plant or two every summer, when we can’t keep up with the drought and the heat.
But it wasn’t always this way. When we moved in, the front yard was mostly dead grass and rocks. Just a few plants were thriving — a large live oak, a crop of irises, three spider lillies, and a big-ass agave I named Armando (who has since put out so many pups she’s been renamed Amanda).
Before (as seen on Zillow). Cute house, sad yard:
After. Cute house, crazy yard!
That’s the beauty of being an armchair biologist. Or a gardener. Or a birder. It’s amateur stuff. No A in pre-cal is required. Anyone can do it, and if you fail, you don’t lose your job. You just buy more plants. You can also rope your husband into digging holes and (one day hopefully) convince your daughter that pulling weeds is fun.
Yes, you might still have lingering regret for giving up those dreams of studying ocelots in South Texas, but when you’re out in your very own wildlife habitat, no one has to know. It’s between you and the birds and the bees.
Your opening was great. “Due to shitty decision making in college, I ended up with a journalism degree when what I really wanted was to be a wildlife biologist.” I giggled right out of the gates. I mean, in solidarity.
I found so many connections to my own life in this post Joy. I got a D in pre calculus and decided to ditch my forestry major and switch to English (for me, that ended up being a good choice. I’m not really a scientist; I just like to be in the woods). My front yard looks like yours (which I love!) and is full of native prairie plants and flowers. It’s a little crazy:). And finally, I think my husband has PTSD over all the hole digging he’s done in the last couple of decades. Luckily, my sons who are 19 have taken over some of this labor! Such a great post. Thank you.