I’ve realized I may never be “done” — not with my house, my garden, or any of the projects I dream up in between. There’s always something in motion, something to look forward to. But maybe that’s the point — the joy isn’t in being finished, it’s in the growing, doing, and dreaming along the way. 

They say gardening is a relaxing hobby, but I’m convinced it’s actually an endurance sport. Between bending, lifting, and hauling mulch, I’ve discovered muscles I didn’t even know existed. My mom (76) and I (56) call it our seasonal workout plan—minus the gym membership and plus a whole lot of dirt and laughter. Gardening may not come with medals, but every ache and ache is proof that we’re still in the game.

There’s a sense of pride in imagining the perfect harvest, the perfectly organized shelves, the perfect gift-worthy jars lined up like little soldiers of culinary achievement. —And then reality happens.

Confidence isn’t just everything—it’s the key to letting go of the constant need to be perfect. Pajama gardening is a reminder that joy, authenticity, and connection to the earth matter far more than appearances.