A friend shared a disappointment recently, which caused her to question the good she contributes to because the results have occasionally been imperfect. Sometimes, in trying to do too much, we end up doing too little. Now and then, that causes us to fail.


Like an over planted garden. We want to save them all, but the soil can only accommodate so many.


Hard choices sometimes have to be made. But in the end, they’ll stand stronger, taller and more brilliant if attention is focused on what can truly be supported well.


Of course, gardens are not living creatures. But a rare failure, however heartbreaking, should not cause us to question all.

“Success is not final, failure is not fatal: it is the courage to continue that counts.”
― Winston Churchill

Mistakes will happen. Perfection is never achieved.


“Use what talent you possess: the woods would be very silent if no birds sang except those that sang best.” ~Author unknown

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I am a nascent gardener, rescuer, and photographer, chronicling the journey of the dogs at Homeward Bound Golden Retriever Rescue and Sanctuary near Sacramento, CA - and the Memorial Garden we have devoted to them.

12 thoughts on “imperfection”

  1. Loved this post! I think that is one of the benefits of reaching an age that could be described as ‘vintage’ (I like that better than senior.). You finally realize life is never going to be perfect and it is okay to let that thought go. It frees your soul to enjoy the music from all the birds. Thank you for the reminder my day will be happier.

  2. Thank you. Yes; the intent of our actions–to share our gifts, to offer compassion, to reach for healing–none of these or a thousand others need to focus on goals and templates with which we judge ourselves, despite our cultural (and probably human) urges to do so. Perfection, really, would be dull and lack our unique creativity. What comfort and gentle peace you must have offered your friend!

    1. As you say, Catherine. Sometimes our journey has unexpected – and difficult – outcomes. Who are we to know, in our little lifetime, what “perfection” is?

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