Better Dirt Than Dead
Sometimes the hardest part of letting go is facing the space it leaves behind.
An Echo Canyon Weekend Story - It’s not really about the garden.
Riley stood on the veranda staring at a pot she had been avoiding for nearly a week. The pentas looked great. The scaevola was trailing fabulously over the edge exactly as it should. And right in front, where everyone climbing the steps could see it, sat a nasty brown plant that was very clearly dead.
She folded her arms. The plant did not appear concerned.
“You’ve been standing there a while.”
Riley turned. Ben was coming up the path carrying two mugs of coffee.
“I paid good money for that plant,” she said.
Ben handed her a mug and looked into the pot. “I don’t think it’s worried about getting your money’s worth.”
Riley laughed despite herself. She looked back at the plant. The thing was beyond saving. Brittle. Brown. Finished.
Still, she had left it there. Every morning she noticed it. Every evening she noticed it. And every day she found a reason not to pull it out.
Ben studied her for a moment.
“Do you think it’s coming back?”
“No.”
“Then why is it still there?”
Riley opened her mouth, then closed it again. The truth sounded ridiculous once she tried to say it out loud.
“Because then there’ll be a hole.”
Ben nodded. As if that explained everything.
Maybe it did. The dead plant bothered her. The empty space would bother her too. At least with the dead plant she could pretend she hadn’t given up on it.
Ben pointed toward the garden bench where a trowel lay in the shade.
“Better dirt than dead.”
Riley smiled.
“You’ve said that before.”
“Because it’s true.”
She set down her coffee and crouched beside the pot. The stem snapped between her fingers. No resistance.
No surprise.
Just confirmation.
A moment later the plant was out. She brushed a little soil back into place and stood. The pot wasn’t perfect. There was an obvious gap where the plant had been.
There were still decisions to make. But somehow it looked better.
Ben took a sip of coffee.
“See?”
Riley nodded.
The strange thing was that the empty space didn’t bother her nearly as much as she thought it would.
The dead plant had been asking something of her every time she walked past.
Fix me.
Save me.
Do something.
The empty space asked for nothing at all.
It simply waited.
For whatever might come next.
Riley looked out across Echo Canyon, the morning sun just beginning to touch the far ridge.
Not every problem needed to be solved immediately.
Not every ending needed to be hidden.
Sometimes the best thing you could do was remove what was clearly done and give yourself room to decide what came next.
She picked up her coffee.
“Better dirt than dead,” she said.
Ben grinned.
“Now you’re getting it.”
➿➿➿➿➿➿➿➿
There’s more to this story than what appears on the page. There always is. Story Insiders come inside to see the layers—the private journals, the complete reflections, the full chapters as I write them. If you’re ready to sit closer, I invite you…