The Myth of Finished

The cottage isn’t as relaxing as it could be. There’s a simmering pressure we feel as soon as we arrive and glance at the landscaping – the feeling that something needs to happen; that it’s not quite right.

We don’t talk about the feeling much – but its very present. It’s the belief the landscape is supposed to reach a state known as “done.”

You’re familiar with the finished landscape. It’s the one in the centre spread of Cottage Life or surrounding the neighbours’ driveway. It’s the one that looks settled and resolved. The one that doesn’t need anything else because it’s reached perfection. It will just stay like that forever.

This is what we’re promised. And it’s a problem.

The thing about a finished landscape is that we’re no longer in the picture. We’re not needed to help it grow, only to maintain it as it is.

Where does this pressure come from? The magazine pictures show the landscape at its most complete moment, when the flowers are in bloom and the early evening light is golden. You don’t see the backhoes that tore it up to install it or the crews that come to cut the lawn.

Same with the neighbours. Their landscapes might look finished, but you don’t see the hard work, the stress, and the Saturdays spent holding the line against change instead of relaxing on the dock.

We’re living in a culture of progress, which means we’re moving forward towards that ultimate destination. Everything keeps getting better; everything is more until one day it’s done and you don’t have to worry anymore. But land doesn’t work like that. It’s always in the process of becoming something different – and that different isn’t the goal you had in mind.

So what happens when you’re forever working towards completion?

First, the work never ends because you never reach the destination. Every peak of the mountain reveals another higher and further away. There’s always another plant to remove or mulch to replace. Part of the landscape doesn’t look right and needs fixing. The goal of completion leads to the dissatisfaction that completion is meant to resolve.

Second, because we’re trying to reach done, we’re fighting nature. The land will always change. It will grow and it will decay. A tree will fall and raspberries tangles will take its place. So when we’re fighting, we’re battling for control instead of working things out.

Third, it gets expensive. Keeping something finished costs money because we’re paying to hold a line the land keeps crossing.

Exhausting isn’t how cottages are supposed to be. Always fighting a battle that never ends. Sighing as you get out of the car. Guilt when there’s one more thing to be done.

But here’s the thing: it doesn’t have to be like this. The desire for completion is the cultural soup we swim in, not something we choose. Indeed, most people don’t ask if finished is something they really, truly want.

So what happens if we give up on done?

We feel relief. The weight lifts. The landscape isn’t something to fix, it’s something to just be with. There’s still work, but it’s feelgood work.

We can be open to what is. When we’re not defending a certain goal, we can start looking at what’s happening. The volunteer seedling isn’t a weed anymore, it’s a curiosity. The overgrown shrub isn’t a problem to hack at, it’s the land showing us what it supports.

We become friendly with our landscaping. We’re not the boss, we’re a colleague. The land has its own direction and our job is to notice it, work with it, sometimes steer it but seldom override it.

All the usual tasks – the planting, the pruning, the sweeping – feel different when we’re not trying to reach an impossible goal we didn’t really choose.

It’s not easy to make this change because the myth of finished is everywhere. It’s the way people talk about their cottages, the way contractors and landscapers sell their services, the way before-and-after videos frame the story on HGTV. But the myth isn’t true. Landscapes don’t finish; they just go on.

So the question isn’t how to complete your landscape, it’s what kind of relationship you have with the land that will keep changing whether you like it or not.

When finished isn’t the goal, something new and better opens up. And weekends at the cottage take on a kinder character.