Starting Small

by Francine Puckly

My husband and I purchased our home just over 14 years ago--new construction nestled amongst dense trees. It presented a landscaping challenge that left me anxious and overwhelmed. A few years into my efforts, I had successfully completed gardens for the perimeter of the house and the front walk—they were not quite up to professional standards, but they were respectable. The rest of the untamed property, however, taunted me whenever I stepped into the yard. It would take days or weeks to landscape and even more hours to maintain each season and each year. I did the only thing that seemed logical. I sought out a landscaping company to do it for me!

A local landscape designer visited, and we walked around and talked about ideas for each area. I was encouraged about the possibilities, but in the end I could not afford to have him complete the landscaping for me. He did, however, leave me with the best piece of advice I’ve ever received: you can’t tackle the entire piece of property at once—if you do, you’ll work a little bit here and a little bit there but nothing will be complete—so start small. Pick one tiny area to garden and don’t get sidetracked by anything else. 

While I wanted to conquer the entire lot, I knew deep down that he was right. I could do a little plot. That was easy, right? So I chose to tackle the area just below my writing window--a section of our property I stared at every day from my desk while trying to conjure up plots and evil characters. I fondly named this my Writing Garden. A few daylilies, a couple hostas, a lovely fuschia spiderwort. Each week I watered the plants deeply, tended to the weeds, and trimmed the spent flowers. In the fall I added a potted mum to spice it up and dropped in a few spring-blooming bulbs. Each year I added a new plant or two to the left or right of that plot. Ten years later I have an enormous garden that showers me with blooms from April to October. It took time, but it’s beautiful.
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This landscaping advice sank into my writing over the years as well. Whenever I feel overwhelmed, I remember to start small. One scene—often my favorite scene—from which I build characters and setting. A small seed sown in the rich soil of my mind. The entire project will take weeks, months or even years to complete. But I will start with one tiny plot. One flower, one hosta. One character, one scene. And it will grow into something fantastic.