I’ve never really liked Yuccas. And, when I think about it, neither did the neighbor who simply said, “If you can dig them up, you can have ‘em.”
Hmmm…was that a warning? A bad omen? Despite my visceral hesitation, I went at it. You see, some weeks before, we had lost a good portion of a glorious hedge and were advised that whatever killed them was specific to this hedge and would infect a similar replacement. That wasn’t exactly music to my ears, but we had to find a solution. And so, after sufficient fretting and useless handwringing, we hauled the yuccas home, still ambivalent about our decision. To make matters worse, they were an esthetic misfit, broadcasting what they truly were: transplanted backups, a gardener’s “fill-in.” At the front of the house, no less.
“We can always dig them back up.”
“Yep. Or maybe move them to the backyard with our other orphaned plants if they look really bad.”
Going with Plan A, we put them in the ground, next to the remaining hedge and held our breath.
As time moved on, we became less and less aware of the yuccas. There were things to do, problems to solve, health to attend to. Just life. Fast forward four (or could it be five?) seasons, and those hesitantly acquired, gifted yuccas hold pride of place. I find myself thanking them for what they are, for blessing us with their dramatic leaves and lush, creamy-white blooms and for filling a literal hole in the physical environment we call home. There are lessons here for me:
- Putting a hold on my adamance against something can be a good thing.
- Allowing something in that feels decidedly different can open and expand my mind and my heart.
- Holding out long enough to witness something bloom in its own fullness of expression can be the result of my willingness to “wait and see.”
In every one of these statements, there is an embedded “can” reminding me of possibility which, of course, leads me to the understanding that it’s not about the yuccas after all. It’s about me, about my tendency to lean into the predictability of past experience, the sure thing. It’s why I bring on the waxed begonias, season after season, instead of branching out and trying something different. Predictability is what “the known” is all about, delivering a sense of safety and security.
That’s true of friendship, as well. With enduring friendships spanning two, three, four and even five decades, I am immeasurably blessed with female connection. So, why invite the uncertainty and risk of a “yucca,” a new friendship? Here’s why, and it will sound familiar:
- Putting a hold on my insistence against something can be a good thing.
- Allowing something in that feels decidedly different can open and expand my mind and my heart.
- Holding out long enough to witness something bloom in its own fullness of expression can be the result of my willingness to “wait and see.”
When I step onto my whimsically curved walkway each morning, embracing the birdsong and respectfully nodding to our resident mockingbird, the first thing that captivates my eye is the splendid bounty of my yuccas – undeniably worth the risk. As are so many things – including friendship.
