This morning I realized why in the 10 years that I've been married I've never had a garden. Each spring, I look out into the spot where my imaginary garden grows and consider the weeds. Then I reconsider the gardening idea.
I've had several potted flowers and plants sitting in my driveway for a couple weeks now. I have a big bowl of various seed packets sitting in my laundry room. This morning, I did something completely out of character.
I looked out onto my weedy yard. I surveyed the garden spot that my husband cleared for me last week; still there, muddy and bare. Then, instead of reconsidering, I grabbed my seed bowl and headed outside.
I planted seeds all over that muddy garden spot; marking their new homes with colored popsicle sticks. I went out to that weed-filled corner of the yard and stuck raspberry bushes in the ground, right amongst the weeds.
The way I figure, if I'm trying to change this habit of perfectionism that always leads me to procrastination, I'm going to have to do things differently. In the case of today, backwards.
I can weed and level and beautify some other day. Today was about cultivating imperfectionism!