Fact .... I am very very insecure about my business.
I want everyone to love it! And although I think its just like chocolate cake .... not everyone likes chocolate cake.
And that insecurity is weird ... cuz I really don't care what you think about me!!! You may not like my cooking ... I don't care. You may not like my clothes ... I don't care. You can tell me "I'd burn down that house!".... and I don't care. I may think you are rude ... but I don't care.
But say something negative about my business .......... and it eats at me forever!!!!!
Yes ... it is story time.
A few years ago, an acquaintance called about bringing a group to the farm. I told them about the hours, times, etc and what would be blooming and the conversation ended.
A couple of weeks later .... an older farm couple came to the farm. They had driven quite a ways to "inspect" the farm for their daughter ... a member of the group. They were quite upfront and honest that they were here to look everything over to see if it was worth the trip.
They questioned why anyone would tie tea cups to the tree. They wondered about the hankies on the line. They were confused about using a corn crib for dining.
Maybe they were looking for beautiful gardens.... I plant my flowers in rows, like a cornfield.
Maybe they were looking for exotic flowers ... nope, just a lot of pretty zinnias, snapdragons and lisianthus.
Maybe they were looking for shiny new buildings instead of worn paint, swoooopy roofs and 80 chickens.
Maybe they were so used to the patch work quilt of fields .... that they couldn't see past the corn to appreciate the view.
After they walked around the farm ... they said their goodbyes .... and walked to their cars.
I heard the old farmer say, "Ain't much here".
I never heard from my acquaintance again.
I know the old farmer was so used to seeing through Midwest eyes .... that the beauty of the little things was missed. The usual and the unusual weren't worth the drive.
I listen to the tree frogs. I hear the robins sing. I see the wonder of a black-eyed susan unfurl its face to the sun.
But over and over and over, as I work through the gardens this spring, I hear "Ain't much here."
You are wondering where does Dr. Phil come in? About now.
It takes a thousand "atta-boy-s" to erase one "ain't much here".
I'll be working on this for a while.