Planning a trip (whether or not it actually happens). Binge reading mystery novels. Baking. Sitting at Borders Bookstore coffee shop with a stack of interesting books that I have no intention of buying and sipping a tall latte. Watching a rom-com on repeat in the years when they used to be actually good and funny. Planting a new garden and especially a new rose garden. These are examples of plunges I have taken in my life, ones that then, unexpectedly, swallowed me whole. Ones that I cant wait to return to and try to fit in at every spare moment.
Because I lose myself in said activity, much of everyday stuff gets shortchanged. Is this why I have been staying up so late every day now? Lat night it was 1:30 before I called it quits (and no, Millie did not want to sleep in the next morning).
Right now, I am sitting at my computer nervously watching the clock move forward. Soon it will be dusk. Soon I cannot dig anymore. I want to be out removing sod and digging more holes, even though at the moment, I do not have any roses to plant.
Obsessive? Perhaps.
Rose gardens are, in fact, like wine: you enjoy it, you want more. There is a group of rose planters who attend the "live" sale online every week, then follow up with reviewing their roses on FaceBook. Judging by their posts, they're mostly women, and yes, they are obsessive, and many of them are quite rich. They must be, because they buy enormous roses in enormous quantities and have husbands (yes husbands!) yelling at them for buying too many. (Some of these same husbands then dig the holes for the new arrivals.) I am neither rich, nor do I have the spaces they do for rose gardens (they post photos, so you can tell), nor a husband yelling at me or digging for me, so that dynamic is totally lost on me and yet, let's be honest -- I share their passion for this flower. (I have been growing perennials for more than forty years and I don't know of a comparable perennial buying/growing group that likes to brag about how many boxes of new plants came by UPS that day.) What is it about roses? They are not especially easy to grow and though the bigger plants can be expensive, the younger smaller ones cost no more no less than any other flower you may buy for your garden. So what's happening here? Are roses the new white wine we once drank before/during/and after dinner?
For me, they are both demanding of physical labor (I like that!) and, as I've said before, they take my mind off of everything else. And they allow me to create a vision of a flowered future. A rosy one at that!
So, reluctantly, I am up with Millie early-ish, bundled now in sweatpants and my fleece over a sweatshirt, that's how quickly we jumped into autumn.
Breakfast.
And then I plant three roses and dig out some mud. I have blisters now to show for it. (One of the roses went into Millie's yard, so the girl could hang out with me while I worked.
I also stopped by the farmette to drop off food for Ed and to pick up some more compost. I visited for a few minutes with him (but only for a few -- I was in a hurry to return to my digging!) and also with his one remaining hen.
She lays very small eggs and she is very lonely, as all her mates have been taken away by predators. She sleeps and poops in the garage and she occasionally hangs out with the wild turkey family that inhabits the farmette. I'm not sure they are happy with this, but so far, no squabbles have ensued.
And then I worked some more on my garden, forcing myself to do the unpleasant -- mow the lawn, which, admittedly, is a much smaller task than it was just two months ago!
(Millie, on a walk: her retriever genes kicking in...)
Back to my rose notes. I'm moving things around tonight, on paper. Does it matter whether All Dressed Up is in back of Loves Me Loves Me Not? Will Princess Anne feel snubbed because she is very much behind Princess Charlene d Monaco? I put in Mill on Floss today and I forgot to check it off on my site map. Oh, I see that she is next to Emily Bronte, with Nye Bevan not too far. (Did you know Nye Bevan was the Welshman who, in 1948 created the National Health Service in the UK? And can you believe it -- they've had national health care over there since 1948?!)
I can go on like this until 1:30 again if I don't rein it in. Such a fabulous thing it is, to grow roses. And to think that they may even bloom someday!
with so much love...
