Last time I had a major nervous breakdown, I planted a mass of dahlias in the garden for the first time in my life.

All my angst and pent up energy went into digging and weeding and fretting.

There was a long wait until the first leaves started peeking from the earth.

Then… a bud, at last.

Some took three weeks to start opening.

It was amazing how the anticipation injected life back into me. As if it was a reminder that there’s more to see and it might be this day that I get to see it. Whatever it was.

Every morning that summer I got myself out of bed thanks to my garden.