There’s a moment for many mothers when they hold their child for the first time, and the world seems to shift entirely. While motherhood may feel entirely new and all-consuming, the act of tending to life isn’t new at all. Nearly every stage of human development invites us to care. To tend to life in one way or another seems to awaken life within us. To be human is, at its core, to tend: to give our attention, our energy, our presence, so that life may flourish.

When I think of someone who embodies this rhythm of tending, both to land and to life, I think of Helen Skiba, the renowned Colorado flower farmer behind Artemis Flower Farm. The flowers at Artemis Flower Farm are unparalleled—dainty, boasting, and colorful. Recently, I took the drive to visit Helen at her farm outside Longmont. While I was technically there to pick up a dahlia tuber order (she has the best around), we both knew the real reason was to meet her almost eight-month-old baby girl. We wandered through the farm and into her cozy home tucked right on the property, where her daughter waited…another tender life being lovingly grown alongside the flowers.

Her hands crusted with a layer of fresh earth from being in the fields just moments before, Helen bent down, scooped up her baby girl, and gently brought her to her chest to feed. From nurturing the tender starters going into the earth to nourishing her ever-growing daughter from her own body, tending is woven into every part of Helen’s life. It is the quiet, powerful duality she lives daily—mother and grower, giver of life in many forms. The act of tending, for Helen, feels like a beautiful weaving: one strand dedicated to the land, the other to her family. At this point, the two are inseparable. It’s a life of constant care and responsiveness, one that not only asks much of her but also fills her up, illuminating a quiet, steady joy.

The notion of tending to someone or something is rooted in patience, responsiveness, care, and steady support. Yet even with all that devotion, thriving isn’t always guaranteed. There are seasons on the farm when, despite Helen’s skill and attentiveness, the results don’t match the effort. Growth can be slow. Flourishing can be elusive.

And in much the same way, mothering mirrors this truth. We can give our whole selves, and still face moments where the outcome doesn’t look like we hoped it would. Tending, in both soil and motherhood, requires surrender—to time, to nature, and to the slow unfolding of life. Tending to the land and to the humans we raise is a sacred and often exhausting act of surrender. It asks us to release control while still showing up with constant responsiveness, presence, and care.

We walked back to my car along the dirt path, weaving through their land. Before we parted ways, we found ourselves chatting about her daughter’s most recent sleep regression. Though there are countless books and podcasts offering advice, I loved what Helen shared—that each child is unique and requires different things to thrive. It reminded me of the many plants Helen grows on her land. Each one requires something entirely different to flourish. Her soil is specific to her farm, her climate unique to her location. And what it all demands is a quiet kind of perseverance…the power of consistency and the willingness to nurture something through momentary hardship until it finally blooms. Tending, especially in motherhood, is a radical form of unending love, often unseen in its entirety, and yet it is this sacred act that sustains life in all its many forms.

Margo Wanberg is the co-founder of the City Park Farmers Market and the newly launched Lafayette Farmers Market. Born and raised in Denver and a CU Boulder alumna, she is passionate about sustainable living, beekeeping, and being rooted in community. She finds joy in connecting people with their local food systems and supporting small-scale farmers and producers. Margo and her husband, Peter, reside in Lafayette, where they enjoy raising their two children.