Man, March 2021, right? I remember it pretty well. We were still kinda stuck in that weird limbo phase with everything going on, you know? Felt like the days just blended into each other, and I was getting a bit stir-crazy, honestly. Needed something, anything, to kinda anchor my days, give me a little project that wasn’t just staring at a screen.
So, I started thinking about something simple, something I could just do and watch without much fuss. Call it my little “Virgo view” project for the month, not that I’m a Virgo myself, but I wanted that meticulous, observant vibe. Decided to pick something that was literally right in front of me, something I usually just glanced over.
I landed on my window box. Yeah, that sad little thing I’d tried to grow some herbs in last year, mostly neglected. A few scraggly bits of mint, some basil that always looked on the verge of giving up, and some chives that just barely made it through winter. I figured, what the heck? Let’s actually see what’s going on there, day by day, for a whole month.
Getting Started: The Daily Look
- First week: Just observing. I grabbed an old spiral-bound notebook and a pen, the kind you find at the bottom of a drawer. Every single morning, right after I poured my coffee, I’d sit by that window. No phone, no music, just me and the window box. I’d commit to five minutes, just looking. What did I see? Did a leaf change color? Was there a new tiny sprout? Any bugs crawling around? At first, it felt pretty dumb, like I was trying too hard. My notes were like, “Green stuff, looks same.” “Windy today.” Real insightful stuff, you know?
- Second week: Spotting the small things. Slowly, things started popping out. I noticed how the early morning sun hit the basil leaves and they’d stand up straighter, like they were stretching. Then, by midday, they’d droop a bit, only to perk back up after I gave them a splash of water. The mint was just going wild, as mint does, clearly trying to choke out everything else. I even tried to sketch some of the leaves, terrible drawings, but it made me look closer. Started seeing tiny holes in some leaves, making me wonder what was munching on them.
- Third week: Uncovering the hidden. This is when it got interesting. I started seeing things I’d never, ever noticed before. A couple of really fine, almost invisible spider webs stretched between the mint stems. A ladybug, just one, seemed to have taken up permanent residence under a chive clump; I saw it almost every day. The chives themselves, I realized, were putting out new, slender shoots, so slowly that you’d miss it unless you were really paying attention. It wasn’t about major changes, but just the constant, tiny, almost imperceptible action happening in that small space. My notes got a bit more detailed, like “Ladybug chilling on chive, 10:15 AM.”
- Fourth week: Getting up close and personal. By the last week of March, I was practically a detective. I dug out a cheap magnifying glass I had from some old kit. Used it to really get in there. Saw the tiny hairs on the basil leaves, the way the light reflected off them. The intricate network of veins in even the smallest leaf. I even found a little dried-up cocoon stuck to a stem. It just hit me how much life, how much constant activity, was packed into that little box, a space I’d ignored for so long.
So, what was the “view” by the end of March 2021? I had pages and pages of scribbled observations, some bad sketches, and a genuine connection to that little window box. It wasn’t about turning it into a prize-winning garden, not at all. It was about realizing that even in the most mundane, overlooked corners of your life, there’s a whole world happening if you just stop and look. Really look. That little “Virgo” project, just taking the time to observe meticulously, it shifted something in me. Made me appreciate the small, ongoing processes. That was my view from March 2021.
