Make Sure to Take Time to Enjoy the Fruits of Your Labor (Opinion)

By Janeen Wright|July 31, 2021

I had to hold back tears when I looked out at the crowd gathered for Greenhouse Grower’s Medal of Excellence evening at Cultivate’21. It was an emotional moment for me to see more than 250 industry people gathered together in one room after a year-long hiatus. As our team took part in announcing the award finalists and winners, and as we all cheered them on and celebrated their achievements, I couldn’t help but reflect on what an honor it was to recognize people in our industry for the benefits of their hard work and the outcome of their efforts.

All too often, it is easy to get caught up in our own little part of the industry. We move quickly from one urgent, triaged task to the next, rarely taking time to stop, look up, and enjoy the fruits of our labor, either because we never see them or because we just don’t take the time. We’re too busy. We’re hyper-focused on our next to-do item. Or maybe, misplaced humility tells us we have a right to our labor but not to the fruits of our labor.

Whatever our reasons for failing to snatch back a few moments from time to time to enjoy our accomplishments, one thing is for certain: it’s a surefire recipe for burnout and kills motivation. Yes, it’s healthy to be where our feet are and enjoy the moment. I don’t dispute there is value in the process and being present, focused, and committed to the task at hand. Take it to the extreme, however, and it’s difficult to see situations clearly (like the pebble that looks like a boulder when you hold it directly in front of your eye) and forget the “why” of what you are doing.

While taking some time off to vacation in California prior to trekking down the coast for California Summer Trials, a co-worker and I stopped for gas at River Inn in Big Sur and discovered the fruits of your labor, a delightful horticulture oasis amid the mountains and busy tourist season. The landscape bed wasn’t much bigger than a few cars lined up end to end, and one could argue it took up valuable space in a cramped parking lot. But you would have thought it was a premier botanical garden the way the tourists were enjoying it. They took pictures, talked plants, stalked the hummingbirds with their cameras, and reveled in the view.

The gardener at the site told us she started at River Inn as a waitress and, through trial and error, learned about gardening and eventually took over care of the landscape. She was laid off during the pandemic and still came in on her own time and without pay to maintain the flower beds. This gardener and others like her are the “why” of what we all do. The tourists enjoying the oasis of flowers are the “why” of what we do. Those who saw that display and thought they might go home and try gardening for the first time or take up the hobby again are the “why” of what we do.