Friends, my heart has been so heavy this week.

Life is difficult right now. I hear from many of you that Glimsen offers a place to slow down, take a deep breath, and enjoy some quiet and peace. So, rather than adding to the noise, I am going to continue to share glimpses of the beauty around us through words and images.

I want Glimsen to be a place that offers you respite and encouragement.

Not everyone here shares my faith, but if you do, I encourage you to, like me, keep praying, reading the Word, and reaching out to others.

And let’s all remember to spend some time unplugged, away from the news and social media. Instead, do something you enjoy—maybe even take a walk and look for the beauty around you.

And now for today’s post.

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I come from a long line of gardeners—people who tilled and sowed and staked and watered and sweated and swatted billions of bugs. All that work, all for bushel baskets full of home-grown heaven still warm from the earth and the sun. Ahhhh.

But alas, I did not get the gardening gene.

I have two sets of friends who have the most beautiful gardens I have ever seen. When I walk through their gardens, beneath the trees, among the plants, I feel as though I am in another world. I feast my eyes (and my iPhone) long before I feast with my tastebuds. I enjoy the fruits of their labor, their sweat, their vision, their harvest.

And, to be more specific, their olives, veggies, berries, and flowers.

Yet, as green as I am about gardening, even I know that you must plant what you want to harvest.

If you want juicy red tomatoes, you put tomato plants in the ground (and you provide stakes to support them).

If you want potatoes, you push potato seeds into the earth.

If you want wildflowers, you sprinkle seeds wherever you want beauty to sprout.

You prepare the ground by tilling and fertilizing. You put in the seed or plant and water it. The sun shines, the rain soaks, the plant grows.

Every year, you prune the tree to get more olives next time.

Or you cut the bush back to get more blueberries.

If you’re a gardener, you are always planning and thinking ahead. And, if all goes well, all of your work leads to the payoff: harvest.

Goals are like that, too. I didn’t get the goal-setting gene, either. I set them and then forget them.

But people who set goals and not only remember them but actually do them get stuff done. My husband is an expert at this. He’s got long lists of goals he has achieved. I marvel at his vision and his discipline.

I have learned that in order to have a healthy harvest of goals achieved, it helps to set them.

This year, I want a healthy harvest, not of tomatoes and potatoes but of words and images. I want to accomplish some projects that I have dreamed about for a while now. The timing seems right, too. This year, I have more accountability in place as well as some experts to consult when I need help or advice.

My big plan is to have a healthy harvest at the end of the season—at the end of 2021.

And like my gardening friends and family, I plan to share the abundance of that harvest with anyone who wants it. So, my friends, keep reading, and happy harvesting yourselves!

What do you want to harvest at the end of 2021?

Thank you for reading Glimsen, where I write about the beauty around us in nature, the arts, and the unexpected. If you like this post, sign up below to get a free gift of beauty and you’ll also receive my blog posts in your inbox. Add more beauty to your life by signing up today.