I'm in the USA, Zone 7, Piedmont area, North Carolina.
May I embrace the lessons of resiliency that plants and nature's own garden has to offer.
The extensive gardens that I once tended with great care have suffered tremendously from severe and prolonged drought. While I tend toward non-fussy plants (except for my beloved dahlias, which I think have all died) pronounced neglect on my part over the last year hasn't helped. Even so, nature is generous and promises some measure of glory. The earliest blooms are smaller than usual. They are also more perfect than usual.
Outside my kitchen window, my one camellia reticulata has started to bloom. A few small clumps of "February Gold" daffodils have opened. I just noticed, by the light of the street-lamp in the front yard, that white crocus buds have colored up and will open tomorrow or the next day. Self-sown opium poppy and larkspur seedlings are up by the hundreds, if not the low thousands. Purple dead-nettle, henbit, chickweed, winter-cress, and common speedwell, "weeds' that I neglected to pull, are in bud or in bloom and carpet the neglected beds, as well as what should be grassy areas of yard. I know they crowd out the cultivars, but I like them anyway, at least while they look pretty, taste good, or are just at the right stage to tincture.
Assorted species and cultivars of yarrow that I wasn't sure had survived in fall from drought are starting to send up leaves. Not thriving, mind you, but with plenty of life left in them. There are rosettes of rose-campion that survived and also self-sowed. I'll go hunting to see if the reticulated and crested iris are sending up buds tomorrow. The hesperis is undetered by drought or neglect. Bronze fennel, which I had previously rued planting, is thriving and sending up feathery leaves all over the place. The assorted species of coral bells have surprised me with their tolerance of drought.
Tomorrow is supposed to be extremely windy, but mild. My excuse for delaying garden clean-up has been to leave the seedheads for the birds. I'll cut back and haul out what doesn't still have seed left, prune the old roses, note what is sprouting that I thought was dead, hope other plants may give some sign of life soon, and think about what to pot up in a month for when I have to move from here to some other, as yet unknown location.
Especially I'll notice what is doing well, cultivated plant or otherwise, with little or no attention from me.
Age, personal circumstances, and anticipation of prolonged drought with changes in climate are leading to shifts in my thinking about my next garden, where ever I may land. I'm going to think more in terms of enabling than of cultivating the ornamental beds.