In my lifetime I’ve had the pleasure of tending to, and cultivating, many gardens.
The hubby and kidlets have always supported my
Many a time when the laundry should have been done or a gymnastics meet should have been attended, I was busy with a hoe or building a rock wall.
I simple statement like, “I’ve got to run to the store for a minute”, often turned into an hour of minutes and a load of shrubs instead of bags of groceries.
Ya know that ‘thing’ where you lock eyes with your husband in that ‘come hither’ kind of way and he suggests a brief interlude? Well sure, but I’m not taking off my gardening gloves and the barn looks like as good a place as any. I’ve got a drip line to calibrate and bare root roses in a bucket. Make it quick buster.
Once, my sister joked that in old age she’d better not need medical advise from me during Springtime- I’d just as well pull the plug before I’d leave the carrot planting. Hahahaaaa…but maybe true.
Such is the life of a Gardener: what you’re dreaming-up for the back 40 (code for land/yard/lot) is never far from your mind.
But… BUT… before you take your curtain call and gather your roses and radishes, there is the Prep, or at this time of year, the destruction and deconstruction of your previous labors.
In my case, that means trimming, clearing, amending, composting, pulling, bleeding (damn thorns), bagging, sweating, rearranging, scrubbing, mending, bleaching, power washing, sweeping, shoveling… blahblahblah.
Suffice it to say that it’s all worth it to me…
But I’m still leaving my gloves on.