Mini Mindset Tip: When Reality Doesn’t Match Your Timeline
How the Spring Equinox Teaches Us to Set Intentions, Adapt, and Trust the Timing of Growth
There’s a part of me, the Texas girl, that still expects to see bluebonnets in March. I moved to the Midwest for college in 1992. I’ve spent 33 years in cold climates and only 17 with bluebonnets. And yet, I’m still disappointed every March.
My expectations don’t match my reality, and that makes me unhappy.
March in Southern Ontario is not beautiful. The days get longer and less gray, but there are rarely flowers, at least for a while.
But there are exceptions. Last year was such a strange winter—barely winter at all—and it was so warm that I planted my front planters on March 6, a full month before my normal time. But in general, I plant front planters the last few days of March, or the first week of April.
I set aside Tuesday, March 18, to spend the day buying flowers and planting up my front planters at last. When I returned from my trip, my winter planters were looking particularly bad. Even though I know from experience and the weather forecast that this is not the week to do it, somehow it seemed reasonable to me.
I went to my favorite nursery, and Hannah had nothing. Not a single annual. She told me she waits until the nights are consistently above 0°C.
Perfectly reasonable (and responsible) but against my expectations.
I went to our local large nursery, knowing they would have plants.
And they did. A few. And although they were watering them as I walked around, it looked like they hadn’t been watered in ages. All the plants were stressed.
I have no need to spend my limited gardening dollars on stressed plants. So I left without buying any.
I called a third nursery and asked if they had their pansies in yet. The lady on the phone sounded incredulous when she responded, “It’s way too early for that.”
Ok, that’s me sorted. My expectations didn’t match the reality of my climate or weather. I was being unreasonable.
And sulky.
Last year’s non-existent winter retriggered my inner Texan, resetting the reasonable expectations for when I could start gardening.
Having expectations divorced from reality is a recipe for unhappiness.
Today, the Spring Equinox is a perfect reminder that nature doesn’t rush, but it always arrives. It’s a balance point—equal day and night—before the inevitable tipping into warmth and growth. And just like the seasons, our plans unfold on their own timeline, no matter how much we expect them to hurry up.
If there’s one thing I know about manifestation, it’s that holding a clear intention while releasing attachment to the how and when is key. The Equinox invites us to trust the process: to plant our desires like seeds, tend them with care, and then let go, knowing that they will bloom in their own time. Abundance is always on its way, even if it doesn’t arrive exactly when or how we expected.
Mini Mindset Tip: Adjusting Expectations with Grace
If you find yourself frustrated when reality doesn’t match your expectations, try this:
Pause and notice: Are you upset because your expectations don’t match reality? Simply recognizing this can be powerful.
Reality check: What’s truly possible given your current circumstances? What’s within your control, and what isn’t?
Adjust with curiosity: How can you work with reality instead of against it? Is there another path forward that still honors your desires?
Practice seasonal patience: Just like the Equinox reminds us that balance is part of growth, remind yourself that things unfold in their own time.
Celebrate flexibility: Letting go of rigid expectations doesn’t mean giving up—it means making space for something even better.
Pair intention with trust: In my New Moon abundance ritual, I write down what I desire, express gratitude as if it’s already on its way, and then—this part is key—I destroy the list. Burning or tearing it releases attachment to how and when things will happen. It’s a practice in both clarity and surrender—setting intentions while making space for unexpected possibilities.
The Garden Chronicles: Thinking through the Boulevard
I must admit that my expectations for bluebonnets in March have triggered my latest gardening project: my boulevard, as it is known in Southern Ontario. In other parts of North America, that space between the sidewalk and the street, owned by the city but maintained by the homeowner, is called the hellstrip, parking strip, parkway, verge, government grass, etc. In Mississauga, we are strongly encouraged to plant our boulevards in native plants.
And by native, I mean locally native to the Credit River Valley, not Eastern North America or nativars.
I found seeds for a lupine native to this area: Sundial lupine (Lupinus perennis subsp. perennis). Is it a bluebonnet? No, but it’s as close as I will get that’s native to this area. And apparently, I have a fantasy of my boulevard filled with bluebonnets.
I’ve applied for a boulevard garden through a local charity, Blooming Boulevards. They apply for the permit, provide the expertise, and give you 50 plants.
But as a gardener, I know that 50 plants isn’t nearly enough. The entire boulevard should be underplanted with sedges and grasses, what is known as matrix planting. Currently, I’ve started bunches of seeds for this project, hopeful that they will be established enough to plant in early summer. Many of these seeds are slow and difficult to germinate. I wasn’t too worried about it, believing I could just buy a couple of flats of plugs.
But that may not be possible here in Southern Ontario. My nurserywoman is researching suppliers. And I will ask at Blooming Boulevards too.
And maybe next year I’ll have bluebonnets, of a sort.
In May.
Beautiful! May the Ontarian ‘bluebonnets’ bloom for you eventually! ☺️