10/30/2026 Friday 46-71F Sunny
Visiting Monet’s Garden was my dream. Finally, this dream came true this autumn.
Though I was prepared, the moment when I walked into the garden, I was still very surprised: It was nearly late October, but the garden was fully blooming, much more abundantly than I had expected. The air was scented with aster and abelia aromas; perennial sunflowers held their bright yellow flower-heads seven- or eight -feet high greeting the morning rays; Gaura, anemone, daisies blended their silhouettes in a light mist. The dews were sparkling on the petals; the bees and butterflies were busy doing their morning jobs; and some pink colored waterlilies were still floating sparsely on the pond to fulfill all the visitors’ summer dream...
I don’t know how many plants were planted by the famous painter or his gardeners more than a century ago, but after the restoration and maintenance, all the plants looked full of vigor and vitality. They crowded together as a whole yet kept their individualities. Just like in a big festival market, all cheerful people, men and women, young and old, poured in dressed in their best clothes; noisy but full of life. They saluted each other, admired the other’s prettiness and happiness, meanwhile they also felt proud of themselves--”I am pretty good looking as well!” They claimed.
Compared to Monet’s garden, for the first time I felt that perhaps my garden was a little bit too lonely. With all the “queens” and “kings” and their divided domains in my flower beds, something seemed to have been missing—the noisy happiness of ordinary folks.
Yes, all the “queens” and “kings” were alone. They stood aloofly from each other or watched each other from a distance; they couldn’t talk; their regale pride didn’t allow them to show any intimacy to others therefore being alone was their normal situation. In their territory, they had nobody but themselves. When they were flowering, they were impressive and glamorous, and I visited them many times a day, even painted portraits for them; while after that, more than eleven months a year, they were silent, colorless, and ignored.
My husband used to laugh at me, saying that there were only “queens”, “kings”, “princes” and “princesses” in my garden, “you can’t ignore ordinary folks.” (I didn’t know where he came up with these two words, a bit unusual but I had to admit that the words were insightful and precise 😅.)
“I have limited space. Of course I should plant the most important ones” I excused myself.
“There are plenty of space.” He showed me, “Look, here and there, between your ‘kings’, you can tuck in many others.”
I rolled my eyes.
But when I walked in Monet’s garden, a world at first sight built by all the “ordinary folks”, I was amazed, happy and grateful. Until that moment I realized that the garden scenes of overwhelming flowers and colors Monet painted in his paintings were in fact realistic, not what he made up in his imagination nor exaggerated. There might be “queens” or “kings” somewhere in his garden too, but they chose to step behind and let “people” go.
Should I only live in those few glorious moments, or should I fill everyday with small graces? Should I reserve myself for the biggest feast, or should I enjoy a candy per day?
I think I don’t have to give the final answer now; furthermore, life isn’t merely white or black. Why should I set all these standards for myself? Why should I bind my own feet?
Therefore, the first weekend after returning home, I went to a nursery and bought seven perennial pots. Based on my usual standards (fragrant, edible, and pretty), they would never be chosen. But now since I have started to question my old belief, and I am eager to add more autumn colors to my garden, I gave them my first try. And instead of scattering them in different locations, this time I purposely planted some of them together to form a little happy clump, which may be common to other home gardeners, but I never did before.
Thanks to Monet’s garden, it made me see my limits. As stubborn as I am, I don’t think I will take a big leap from this side to the other side. But slowly yet surely, I will at least continue trying. Because I want to be better.