First on my list was finishing the Autumn house dressing. (That's what I call seasonal decorating!) Finishing the front porch over the weekend, I'd stewed around for several hours yesterday over specific spots indoors. Got the mantel done, and the sideboard. But the entry hall and dining table stymied me. (Of course, being the over-doer that I am, even the laundry rom is dressed for the season - but it's the entry and dining table that were my challenges for today.)
Finally I got happy with both, and moved outdoors to freshen up deck planters and my garden. I was so excited! The temperature was perfect under one of the most beautiful blue skies ever!
Success on the deck, and on to the garden! I have to admit that the garden has been neglected for the past couple of weeks. Until just the past few days, it's been so hot that working out there meant battling mosquitos the size of birds. And we've had such a drought that I just couldn't keep things watered as I should. But today was like a tonic to my soul! With a wheelbarrow filled to the brim with purple and wine- colored pansies, burgundy and gold mums, and some great flowering cabbage and kale, I set out to revive both my spirit and my garden!
It will take days to bring it to glory, however. The two weeks of neglect have left it littered with dry leaves, pine straw, limbs and cones. But just starting to clean it up regenerated and renewed me . . . until.
Until I began to do the task I had dreaded for days. You see, I'm new to this seasonal gardening thing, and I am not a person who takes any life form lightly. So the thought of pulling up and basically 'killing' still-living plants goes against everything in my character. But, as all gardeners know, plants - specifically, annuals - have their seasons. And while I didn't wish ill on my still-blooming impatiens and ageratum, their leggy shapes and sporadic color left the garden looking a bit sad. So I approached a planter full of ageratum and apologized profusely as I began to rip their once lush, but still bravely upright stems from the soil. I actually was heartsick. And when I discovered several tiny, green new plants sporting beautiful blue blooms previously hidden by the overgrown and leggy older ones, I actually found myself crying. Pulling their tiny roots from their fertile home made me sick. This summer's garden was my first EVER attempt at a project like this, and I was so insecure and uncertain of how to go about it, I viewed every plant as my baby and my responsibility. And the fact that I was actually successful at growing a surprising variety of beautiful things was not only a shock but a source of affirmation and pride that I sorely needed. No longer part of the working world, I find myself with no co-workers, in a new place with no friends, and no creative outlet or positive feedback for my talents and efforts. So my plants became much more than my new hobby. They were/are my friends, my confidants, my therapists, and my church. Their healthy growth and abundant blooms were/are my 'atta-boys' and my personal applause.
Placing them in the ground over the past few months, I asked each of them to bear with my novice-ness, and to please try to do well even if I'd not chosen the right spot for their light requirements and ignorantly over- or under-watered them. And they seemed to understand. They forgave me for my blunders and rewarded my efforts with vigorous growth and bursts of color. I love them. When I visit them and tend to them, I speak to them with encouraging words in gentle and sometimes celebratory tones. I touch them - each of them - individually, and I thank them for the joy they bring me. So to cut their lives short purely for the intent of replacing them with something newer, more colorful, and more seasonal seems cruel and, at the very least, bad karma. As I cried, removing them from their comfortable nests, I thanked each of them for bravely continuing, through drought and heat, to do the only thing I asked of them . . . grow and be beautiful.
I hope they understood as I explained that their lives were not ending . . . just changing form. (That's my personal theology/philosophy about everything. It never ends . . . it just changes form. Life goes on, and on, and on.) I explained that they would rest in the compost bin, take on a new form, and in the Spring they would give life to their bretheren. I hope they understood. I'm guessing they understood this long before I 'discovered' these truths about the life cycle. And I think that, after their long hot summer they are probably ready for a long-awaited rest. At least, I think they deserve one.
Super post!
ReplyDeleteXoxo