Remember last month when I confessed that I actively detest this project?

Good news: nothing has changed.

Actually, that’s not entirely true. I still hate stitching it, but I’ve finally accepted that this is just the relationship we’re going to have for the next seven months.

The irony is that the finished piece becomes more beautiful every month. I can see the vision now. The garden is really starting to take shape, and I genuinely love looking at the progress. I just don’t particularly enjoy making it.

May’s weather certainly didn’t make things boring. The highest temperature reached 100.8º, while the lowest dipped to 40.8º. The biggest swing came on May 16, when temperatures jumped 39.6º over the course of the day.

The garden reflects all of it. Cool blues gave way to warmer shades of yellow, orange, pink, and deep red. It feels like the garden fully embraced late spring, even if Mother Nature couldn’t quite make up her mind.

The biggest lesson for May wasn’t really about stitching at all. It’s that once I fall behind on this project, it becomes exponentially harder to convince myself to pick it back up. Every missed day turns into another four colors to change, another section to count, another reminder that I’m behind. It’s a terrible cycle because the more I avoid it, the bigger the mountain becomes.

The only way through is… through. So I stitched. One day. Then another. Then another. Before I knew it, May was finished.

I’m still not a fan of the fabric. I’m still not thrilled about changing thread colors every few stitches. I still think tracking both high and low temperatures was an ambitious choice.

I also have to admit that seeing five months together changes my perspective a bit. Looking at each month individually, all I notice are the mistakes, the thread changes, and the days that felt like chores. Looking at them together, I see a garden that’s slowly coming to life.

Speaking of mistakes… yes, I know they’re there. Trust me, I’ve found every single one of them. I frogged parts of May twice before finally deciding I’d reached the point of diminishing returns. At this stage, “done is beautiful.” Unless a mistake is glaringly obvious, it’s staying exactly where it is. This project has already demanded enough of my time and patience, and I simply couldn’t be bothered to chase perfection anymore.

Maybe that’s the lesson for May. Sometimes good enough really is good enough.

No, I don’t suddenly love this project. But I do love seeing what it’s becoming. And that’s enough motivation to keep going.

Here’s hoping June and I can come to some sort of understanding.