Moving Again
I have been remiss. My gardens need tending, and I have done nothing. Deadwood needs trimming. Weeds need pulling. Borders need tidying. Instead, I have gone gallivanting around the countryside for the first quarter of the year. And since I am not one who likes to pack my days with things to do, things have gone undone. Maybe it’s age. Maybe it’s just me figuring out that a slow life is a good life, and sometimes it pays to just sit and look around. I don’t know.
But my tenacious swallows are back, and I am reminded of my responsibilities. So, this morning when the sun shines, I’ll clean the garage. Then I’ll get out the saws, and clippers, and blowers. Dead vines will be pulled. Deadwood and leaves will go flying. My burn pile will grow larger. Either this week or next, a friend will bring a big trailer and we’ll get three or four yards of mulch. Because things need mulching, for instance, the ground beneath the peach tree needs refreshing and there’s the new garden space on the north fence.
I just wish we had some rain. But my mother used to tell us that if wishes were horses beggars would ride which is a hard phrase to interpret as a child and even harder still when you write it down as an adult. I just take it to mean that wishing for something won’t make it happen. And of course, with rain, as with most things in life, nothing I do will have an impact because it’s out of my control. And maybe that’s why I need my gardens. Because all that digging and cutting usually pays dividends and brings me joy through the spring and summer and gives my life at least the patina of control.
John W. Wilson is the author of The Long Goodbye: A Caregiver’s Tale