A Story About Ferns: Seeing Beauty in Everyday Objects

 All hail the fern!

All hail the fern!

In the Pacific Northwest, ferns are a kind of everyday object. They're everywhere, especially if you go into any woodsy park. Or take a neighborhood walk. There are a lot on my tree-filled suburb. On trail runs, I'd cruise by areas that I called Fern Gully. I tolerated them because I knew up ahead there was a stand of white-bark trees that make my inner Pocahontas swoon. In short: I didn't care two diddlies about ferns.  

Until ... until...

I met my husband. When I heard him talk about his love for ferns with misty eyes, I thought he was joking. I didn't know it was possible to have a fern fetish. In time, I understood.

It was February. My husband went to trim the line of overgrown scraggle-puss ferns along his driveway. He cut them down to nubs, you wouldn't have know anything had been growing there. "That's better," I thought to myself, after he removed the green-brown overgrown mops.

Then we waited. Spring arrived.

What a fun surprise! When ferns grow back they're adorable. I loved watching their skinny little fronds rise out of the ground and curl like cutie-q's. How did I never notice these babies? Don't they look like little music notes?

 Is that baby the cutest thing ever?

Is that baby the cutest thing ever?

I loved watching them grow back over the weeks. Then I noticed how ferns were growing back in their full bouquet-ness everywhere. THEN, I started noticing different types of ferns. Pointing them out to my husband. Liking the lemon-lime decorative ferns the most, discovering new ones. Now I appreciate ferns. When my husband comes home with new ferns I rush out to have a look. 

I  love how knowing the bigger story of something can change your relationship with that person place or thing. It happened for me with the artist Mark Rothko. I thought his rectangles of color were puzzling until I ventured into this enlightening online tour of his art and life. I'm a rabid Rothko fan now.

And back to ferns. Look at this jaunty junior uncurling itself in our rockery.

A fern bouquet growing out of the ground.

Now when I take a walk two things happen: I notice the ferns. And I see the new life uncurling inside the straggle of a well-worn fern.

See it?

Old gnarly fern--but look closer, can you see the newbies?
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Tatyana Sussex

Tatyana is a coach and writer who works with professionals and creatives to love the work they do. She specializes in messaging coaching, supporting solopreneurs, entrepreneurs and small businesses get their voice into the world in the most natural way possible. She also loves coaching the next generation—teenagers—to help prepare them for a thrilling and thriving entrance to college and adulthood.