Accidental emails

At the very end of last year, an unexpected email ended up in my inbox.

Not in my spam or promotions or whatever Gmail decides to use as classifiers.

This one ended up in with all the others I go through daily.

It was from a nursery; the gardening kind I used to go visit with my mom and her then-fiancé on Saturday mornings when I was 8 and they were planning landscaping for the front and back yards, and the dark pavement inside was always mostly damp and we were always there much earlier than I wanted to be awake so my skin felt that prickliness of being not asleep anymore but not fully present either, but definitely colder than I’d choose to be.

I haven’t been to a nursery like this in years and have no idea how their newsletter ended up in my email.

Was it just a mistake or simple typo, a letter or a number off between me and some other stranger who does want to know what the 3 most popular types of lavender are?

It’s different then getting someone else’s letters in the physical mail, because at least you can send those back to the post office and they can do some reverse change of address + address forwarding magic and deal with it and it’s out of your hands. You’ve done your duty.

This though. This there’s nothing to do anything about.

Anyway, I saved that first email.

Marking the year’s conclusion, the author referenced the final turn of a hummingbird calendar. They spoke of the gratitude and solace that had been found in turning to the earth for comfort during the multitude of trials during the year that wrecked nearly everyone in some unforeseen way.

Woven throughout was the thoughtful attention and acknowledgment of the loss of one of the community’s dear friends.

The whole 2.5 paragraph note was infused with the most peaceful and inspiring sense of calm supportive safety, the likes of which I haven’t ever seen in an email before, and rarely come across anywhere for that matter. Digitally or otherwise.

I was floored and reread it three times.

It’s miraculous that I happened to stumble onto this, or that it ended up in my pathway in the first place.

It feels like I have accidentally wandered into this inside communication of tenderness between these people who cherish the earth and the things they are growing and each other.

I often daydream about the other members of this email list while I’m doing errands, washing dishes, or out on a walk.

How many of them have been to this place?

How many of them open their email and know what they are looking for?

Did they see a plant featured and think, This is the stuff I’ve needed and now I can make my garden better, so go grab your gloves, Louise! We’re going to the nursery!

Today’s letter was about the different varieties of sustainable grass and grass alternatives that might be right for your specific lawn care needs.

I imagined someone with a rambunctious dog seeing the little image for “dog tuff grass plugs (for foot traffic)” and them sighing with relief at this suggested solution while their little terrier chews a ball in the corner of their office.

What if I had deleted it?

I would have missed an entire world.