By: Selina Pedi-Smith, Pellere Foundation
This summer hasn’t just been about things breaking down (belts, bolts, my patience…), but even more it’s been about what got built in between all the repairs. And while I’m immensely proud of my awe-inspiring dragging skills, it’s the little, surprising discoveries that make me smile the most.
Take that fatefully timed shed, for example. Or rather, the spot where the shed needed to go. I had to clear out a good bit of prickly undergrowth in what had been a rather forgotten corner of our property. Briars, blackberry brambles, and insidious barberry galore. After slashing down most of what needed to go, there was one scraggly dogwood that I really wanted to keep. The position of it would be beautiful in front of the shed, and I figured it would be much healthier without all the competition. But. It was right in the way of where the shed would be pulled in. It might look great later, but right now it was – unfortunately – smack in the way. And, in truth, it wasn’t very healthy. I hated doing it, but it had to come down.
Within a few days of the dust settling, though, I noticed a tiny sapling with a few equally tiny but immediately identifiable leaves pushing up from the roots. A week later it was six inches tall. Now, several weeks later, it’s already almost two feet high, bright and vigorous. So. The cantankerous competition is gone, the tree wants to be there, and I’m going to make sure it thrives. Sometimes building means removing what isn’t working – and sometimes it means making space for something to grow back stronger.
Then there’s that little seating area I carved out at the edge of a shady grove. At first, I thought it would just be a pleasant spot for morning coffee. And it is, with dappled sunlight, light breezes, and cats draped across every surface like they own the place. But about a week ago I hauled my laptop out there, and to my surprise, it was perfect for working too. The light is gentle. The air moves just enough. And the wicker armchair we pulled out of storage ended up being perfect for computer work. My shoulder doesn’t hurt after a couple hours of typing – something I hadn’t been able to say all summer. I planned the seating area, but I didn’t plan for it to be an outdoor office. It just happened. A happy accident in the middle of a project, turning a coffee nook into an ergonomic miracle.
And of course, not everything went perfectly. The big sassafras at the corner of the nook still carries two big scrapes from my first clumsy attempts at working close to anything, back when I hadn’t quite figured out the bucket’s spatial reality. I got better… later scrapes on other trees were smaller. (Yes, I’ve apologized to each of them many, many times.) But the bark shows where I started. Maybe that’s the point. Building isn’t neat or flawless. It leaves marks, and sometimes it surprises you with gifts you didn’t expect – a dogwood rising from its roots or a shady spot that makes work feel lighter. If there’s a lesson at all, it’s just this: sometimes the best things we build are the ones we never planned, and the scrapes along the way are simply reminders to stay humble enough to notice them.
