The sun is with us today and tomorrow and perhaps even the next day. I call that a gardener's obligation to step out and get going.
But with what? I have heaps of compost and soil at the edge of the roadside flower bed, waiting for new arrivals that haven't arrived. Understandably, things are moving slowly this year. I've put in the path for the big flower bed and I need to plant the flowers that will spill over onto the wooden walkway. Once I have the flowers. I have a bunch of annual seeds waiting for a promise of frost free nights. Ed asks -- so what will you be working on today?
I answer -- Good question! I don't know...
In the past, we'd be driving to the nurseries to take a look, perhaps adding some stuff, perhaps selecting flower baskets for the porch. That was then. Now I spend the sunny morning poring over websites, trying to shop from the same nurseries, but with the aid of the internet. Believe me, it's not the same. There was great joy in walking along aisles of potted plants. You have to work up a different sense of contentment as you browse online. Too, you're not the only shopper. I see that if I place an order at Flower Factory, our beloved perennial growers, pick-up wont be available until next weekend. Understandable. But it doesn't help us in our work during these three good weather days.
Okay, pause for breakfast. Note the tulips. I splurged and spent the $6 to add a bunch to yesterday's grocery order. I love spring tulips on the kitchen table and I wanted at least this week to have their bright faces join us for the morning meal.
True, I would not have picked pale lilac. But they're fine, really fine! Lovely in fact, by virtue of their preciousness right now.
By late morning, I put away the laptop and head outside. I have five bare-root plants that did arrive last week. In they go. Anything else? Bed maintenance! This can easily fill a day. Or two. Or three. Dig out the spreading Monarda. Pull out creeping charlie where it has crept too far. Find the quack grass strands and wack that quack! All on a spring-like sunny day.
The wind is strong. I like that! It defogs the brain and cleans the soul. I almost forget we're living in weird times.
(The daffodils that can't brace themselves against the wind come inside.)
(Dark Blue Tuxedo, taking in this fiery day...)
Evening. Snowdrop calls. Gaga, I miss trips. I miss airplanes. I miss the excitement.
I almost want to tell her -- oh, we'll all be traveling again in no time! Time for a five year old is a mysterious combination of hours and months. It's intractable. You can make it up for a child because she wont know herself how to measure it. But I don't say that. It seems to me that we need to teach ourselves to build happiness afresh, out of this new reality. To find elements of goodness in our everyday, because there is too much uncertainty to bank on something that comes after. And indeed, so long as we are healthy, and we have food and shelter and love -- the ingredients are all present. We need look no further than that.
Supper? I take out chicken brats and frozen broccoli and I cook them up in a way that it seems like it's a regular old supper on a Saturday night.
Goodnight, with love.
But with what? I have heaps of compost and soil at the edge of the roadside flower bed, waiting for new arrivals that haven't arrived. Understandably, things are moving slowly this year. I've put in the path for the big flower bed and I need to plant the flowers that will spill over onto the wooden walkway. Once I have the flowers. I have a bunch of annual seeds waiting for a promise of frost free nights. Ed asks -- so what will you be working on today?
I answer -- Good question! I don't know...
In the past, we'd be driving to the nurseries to take a look, perhaps adding some stuff, perhaps selecting flower baskets for the porch. That was then. Now I spend the sunny morning poring over websites, trying to shop from the same nurseries, but with the aid of the internet. Believe me, it's not the same. There was great joy in walking along aisles of potted plants. You have to work up a different sense of contentment as you browse online. Too, you're not the only shopper. I see that if I place an order at Flower Factory, our beloved perennial growers, pick-up wont be available until next weekend. Understandable. But it doesn't help us in our work during these three good weather days.
Okay, pause for breakfast. Note the tulips. I splurged and spent the $6 to add a bunch to yesterday's grocery order. I love spring tulips on the kitchen table and I wanted at least this week to have their bright faces join us for the morning meal.
True, I would not have picked pale lilac. But they're fine, really fine! Lovely in fact, by virtue of their preciousness right now.
By late morning, I put away the laptop and head outside. I have five bare-root plants that did arrive last week. In they go. Anything else? Bed maintenance! This can easily fill a day. Or two. Or three. Dig out the spreading Monarda. Pull out creeping charlie where it has crept too far. Find the quack grass strands and wack that quack! All on a spring-like sunny day.
The wind is strong. I like that! It defogs the brain and cleans the soul. I almost forget we're living in weird times.
(The daffodils that can't brace themselves against the wind come inside.)
(Dark Blue Tuxedo, taking in this fiery day...)
Evening. Snowdrop calls. Gaga, I miss trips. I miss airplanes. I miss the excitement.
I almost want to tell her -- oh, we'll all be traveling again in no time! Time for a five year old is a mysterious combination of hours and months. It's intractable. You can make it up for a child because she wont know herself how to measure it. But I don't say that. It seems to me that we need to teach ourselves to build happiness afresh, out of this new reality. To find elements of goodness in our everyday, because there is too much uncertainty to bank on something that comes after. And indeed, so long as we are healthy, and we have food and shelter and love -- the ingredients are all present. We need look no further than that.
Supper? I take out chicken brats and frozen broccoli and I cook them up in a way that it seems like it's a regular old supper on a Saturday night.
Goodnight, with love.
