Accepting the Plants We Cannot Change

The Plant Dude gives us some advice. Where have I heard that message before?

A year ago this week, October 10, 2023, I started this Substack with a post about my backyard and my disease of perception, a symptom of my alcoholism. If you missed it, check it out here! 

So it seems synchronistic — is that a word, and if so, am I using it correctly? — to write another post about my yard one year after my FIRST.EVER Substack post. Maybe it’ll be an annual thing! 

It seems my yard is not only a haven for chipmunks and recently arrived owls, who I’m guessing are eating the chipmunks, but it’s also a place where I can draw life lessons. 

Our home is located in a small, suburban New Jersey town. I almost said “quiet,” but the NJ Transit commuter rail runs next to my house back and forth all day every day, and the town park behind our property yields some interesting noises, such as the plop plop of pickle ballers and screams of middle schoolers playing Manhunt. 

For Suburbia, our backyard is large and technically not all “ours.” Because there’s a sewer system that drains rainwater from the street into the brook, the land I gaze at from my dining room table, where I’m typing this post now, is mostly town property. 

The town doesn’t plan to do anything with this extra lot, so Chris and I have the pleasure of cultivating its wildness. Let’s be honest; it’s mostly Chris He spends all weekend in the yard, making paths with a weed wacker and pulling out invasive species like Porcelain Berry and Mugwort. We, I mean, HE has also planted some trees, Sycamore and Holly, with a real eye to the future.

How does that Chinese proverb go? The best time to plant a tree is 20 years ago. The second best is today. 

Chris’s hard work has paid off, and we’ve been enjoying some delightful native species this growing season. Here’s a short video from a couple of weeks ago. You can hear the pickle ballers at the park. 

However, as the project grew more extensive, Chris thought it might be time to bring in an expert. He remembered a guy he met a few years ago who owned and operated a small landscape company with his wife. The husband and wife duo specialize in native flowers and cultivating native gardens. Chris booked a consultation with The Little Plant Company.    

So, one recent Sunday morning, Jason the Plant Dude, drove up from South Jersey and walked us around our yard, talking about what we were doing right and what improvements we could make. 

You could tell Jason was the real deal when he grabbed some seed pods, rolling them in his fingers, he told us with excitement how the seeds can’t grow on their own. They need to travel through the digestive system of some bird and then the bird’s droppings start the propagation process. Fascinating stuff! 

Chris and I explained our issues. The NJ Transit people cut down trees and blocked the brook’s tunnel causing back up. And the Tree of Heaven that lives on town property is attracting Lantern Flies (those mofos!). The Lantern Flies are killing our Willow! And by the way, another tree not on our property makes it impossible to grow anything in our little side garden off the kitchen. 

We explained our issues and then waited for this wise plant guru to give us the answers.

Here’s the general gist of what the Plant Dude said:  

My wife and I live next to a church that has a large piece of property with a bunch of Oak trees. Too many trees in my opinion. The church is not managing it correctly, and I tell my wife how I want to go in there, thin out the trees, and plant some other native species.  

But my wife Kelly tells me that is not our land. Unfortunately, there is nothing I can do about the church’s property. She tells me to focus on our own yard, on what we can control.  

When the Plant Dude told us this story, Chris and I gave each other a look. Being in 12-step programs, Chris in Alanon and me in Alcoholics Anonymous (AA), this is a lesson we learn and relearn over and over again. You can’t change other people! Stop trying to manage something you have no control over. Acceptance is the answer!

“Keep your side of the street clean,” a phrase repeated often in both programs, in this instance, means focus on your own property, not the neighbors. 

What was so interesting to me is that even though he was the expert, Jason the Plant Dude didn’t give us this lesson by wagging his finger at us and explaining it authoritatively.  

Instead, he shared his experience. He explained he had wanted to do the same thing! He sympathized (or is it empathized I never know the difference). He, too, wanted to change things on property that was not his. But with his wife’s guidance, he realized he could only focus on the plants he could control in his own yard. 

Later that day, when promoting the Little Plant Company to a friend, I explained what he said and chuckled to myself. Not only did Jason tell us to “keep our side of the street clean” in plant language, but he also used a technique that AA uses. Instead of telling people what to do, as we know that never works, AAers say, “Yes, that’s tough. Here’s what I did when I experienced the same thing.”

Never, this is what you should do. Always, here is what I did. 

I love hearing AA’s message in other aspects of my life. It confirms to me that when people are on the path to living the best life they can, the same principles apply—they are universal!  

“We have no monopoly on God; we merely have an approach that worked with us.” (Alcoholics Anonymous, p. 95)

Whether you’re trying to live a sober life of love and patience or trying to cultivate native species in your yard, focus on what you can change in yourself and not others. 

Jason the Plant Dude should end his consultation with this version of the Serenity Prayer: 

Mother Earth, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change in my neighbor’s yard, the courage to change the things I can on my own property, and the wisdom to know my property lines. 

Disclaimer: To err is human. Please excuse any typos or grammatical errors. I employ Grammarly, but mistakes happen. In this world of AI, they're my way of keeping things delightfully human.