It’s Not Too Late

I follow some Saskatchewan gardening pages on Facebook. Lately (it’s late-June as I write this), I often see questions asking if it’s too late to plant something. Responses vary from “no, it’s not too late” to short answers in the negative to those requesting more information like “Where are you located?” (The growing zone in Saskatchewan ranges from 2 to 4—location matters.)

I’m there to learn (having recently moved here from garden zone 6), but if I were to respond to a question about whether it is too late to plant something, my answer would be to try it! The best lessons are those learned by experience, after all.

Seeds are cheap. At best, there’s enough time between now and first frost for something planted now to produce something to harvest. Worst case, you waste a few seeds. Either way, you’re likely to get something, even if it’s just a plant with no fruit or vegetable, and you’ll gain a nugget of wisdom for next year. But, the question people are asking isn’t “is it too late to plant”. What they really want to know is “if I plant now, will I get a harvest?”

I was thinking about the “is it too late?” question when I pulled out my watercolour paints this morning. I set aside other creative pursuits in favour of watercolour for the summer. It’s more “me” than anything else—a gentle, quiet practice that’s even a bit old-fashioned.

I was 61-years-old in 2020 when I started playing with watercolours. Questions like “is it too late to start painting?” or “will I have sufficient time to hone my skill if I start now?” didn’t enter my mind. I wanted to learn something new, so I bought supplies and tried it. I’m never going to be an accomplished watercolour artist. That’s not the point. I splash paint on paper because I enjoy the peace and mindfulness of doing so. Occasionally, I create something I like, but mostly I just have fun. Right now, I’m focusing on birds. If I wanted a strong likeness I’d pull out my Canon and take a photograph, but I’m painting imaginary creatures that exist only in my mind and come into being with strokes of my paintbrush. It’s great fun.

When I was 48, I decided to write my first book. I’d always written and, in the back of my mind, dreamed of publishing, but the opportunity hadn’t yet presented itself. I didn’t ask myself if it was too late. I didn’t focus on whether I had an MFA or connections in the publishing industry. I decided to write a book, took some classes, honed my craft and, over the course of a few years, did so. I’ve written and published three books now, not to mention 17 volumes of blog books that I’ll leave behind for whoever wants them after I’m gone.

BUT, if I started writing seriously at age 48 and never published a book, would that time and effort be a waste? If everything I paint from now until I give up the hobby ends up in the trash (which it will one day), is that reason for me never to pick up a paintbrush? Of course not.

It’s never too late, friends. If you want to try something new or gain a new skill, give it a go. Plant the seeds. Try a new craft. Take a class. Maybe you’ll find that it’s not for you and you’ll set it aside, or maybe you’ll discover a passion that enriches your life for a season or the rest of your life. You’ll never know if you don’t start.

I’m in my seventh decade and am continually surprised by the things I discover, the opportunities and different paths I find to explore. It’s a good time to be alive (yes, I know all things are not as they should be; that’s no reason to give up). Every day you wake up is an opportunity to say “yes” to dig into something that interests you. Why wait?