I MUST CONFESS. With the longer days and the warmer temperatures of spring, there is something that has completely taken over my gray matter. It's an undertaking that selfishly crowds out any and all other endeavors, such as common sense. Those of you who know me, already know what I'm talking about.
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| Agastache 'Red Fortune' seeking attention in my garden |
True, with the release of my garden book, (Grace in the Garden: Thirty Years of Blunders and Bliss) I've been working on a few publicity opportunities. And I've still got my day job to keep me otherwise occupied until I get home in the evenings.
But when evening comes and weekends arrive, I'm IN THE GARDEN.
Several years ago I wondered if the gardening bug was losing its grip. My feelings about it had turned blase' and I didn't give a hoot about color echos or compost. I can't remember exactly what occupied my busy mind back then. It might have been while I was writing my first book.
Fortunately the garden waited for me. It grew, of course. And it was a muscle-straining endeavor getting it back into at least a semblance of order.
In my book Grace in the Garden, I liken the garden to an attention-seeking toddler who tosses her spoon on the floor just so the reliable caretaker will reach down and pick it up. Then she'll throw it back on the floor and on and on. Just like that little darling, the garden is an attention-seeker. It purposely does things that force the gardener to get out there and tend to it. I think it just doesn't want to be alone.
Silly as it may seem to the non-gardener, I'm happy to say that I'm enjoying the call, sore muscles and all.
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But when evening comes and weekends arrive, I'm IN THE GARDEN.
Several years ago I wondered if the gardening bug was losing its grip. My feelings about it had turned blase' and I didn't give a hoot about color echos or compost. I can't remember exactly what occupied my busy mind back then. It might have been while I was writing my first book.
Fortunately the garden waited for me. It grew, of course. And it was a muscle-straining endeavor getting it back into at least a semblance of order.
In my book Grace in the Garden, I liken the garden to an attention-seeking toddler who tosses her spoon on the floor just so the reliable caretaker will reach down and pick it up. Then she'll throw it back on the floor and on and on. Just like that little darling, the garden is an attention-seeker. It purposely does things that force the gardener to get out there and tend to it. I think it just doesn't want to be alone.
Silly as it may seem to the non-gardener, I'm happy to say that I'm enjoying the call, sore muscles and all.
Yes, I understand this. Right now, my toddler is calling me and I'm putting him/her off a bit because of some big work projects. But I'd rather be out in the garden with the "toddler" every day. ;-)
ReplyDeleteGrace...Seeing as how I just returned from the nursery with more plants after swearing I had spent my limit on the "toddler" this month, I feel compelled to agree. Once you get addicted to gardening, it's surely worse than smoking crack every time you swear enough is enough...it's not :D
ReplyDeleteIt's a good obsession to have, I say. There are far worse things we could be addicted to. That's my story and I'm stickin' to it.
ReplyDeleteI have missed your writing! AND your pinkalicious garden!!
ReplyDeleteHUGS>>~~
The obsession is intoxicating and well worth the sore muscles.
ReplyDelete