There’s something about working in the fresh air and sunshine, tending the garden. The repetitiveness and physical exertion soothe the frayed edges of my nerves and makes the pressures of time and household tasks go away.
As much as I lament not having a fresh can of Killex to get rid of the dandelions and creeping charlie flourishing in the lawn, the hours spent ripping them up are not wasted. I marvel at how the birds have returned in droves. There are some I’ve never seen before, with tan backs and reddish bellies, goldfinches and tiny blue-winged creatures that fly as fast as mosquitoes. Great honking arrows of Canada geese fly low overhead and the squawks of blue jays and cardinals fighting over the bird feeder break up the drone of lawn equipment.
Of course, despite all of my maintenance last fall, rooting out weeds and disposing of over a hundred fat white grubs, the skunks and raccoons have been tearing up the sod in search of midnight buffet items. I’m turning some flower beds back to lawn – less upkeep.
This year, my sweet university-bound grandson will drive himself over to help with heaving bags of mulch around and touching up paint on our outdoor structures. We get lots of quality time, which warms my heart. When we’re done digging and planting, we stand around admiring the clean slices of rich dirt and spreading perennials almost ready to bloom.
Despite the last three months of semi-isolation and interrupted schedules, we agree that we feel content.
Tagged: gardening
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