Me in Spring

Dear Reader,

In springtime I think I am a good gardener. As if I could possibly take credit for the explosion of color, I spend a lot of time walking around our gardens, noting plants that have poked through the soil, tiny buds that are now small leaves, and breathing in the tea olive, daffodils and later, the lilacs. I am completely giddy. I can’t sleep with the excitement of it all, though my sore body rebels in the mornings. “Beds outside need to be finished, so get out of the one under you and let’s get growing!” 

Delighted that most everything I planted last year has survived the winter, I nod and say thank you to them. But in the back of my mind I am thinking, “Yes, I am a good gardener. I worked hard siting, planting, feeding and watering that plant, and it has survived. Yay me.” 

This narcissistic stage in my gardening year doesn’t last long, though, as the long days of hard work outside takes its toll on my indoor life. Clean laundry, dishes, meals don’t just spontaneously come out of the dryer, drawers, and fridge the way daffodils appear in my brick planters. I want to be outside all day and evening, but I can’t and so I lose my gardening confidence and by summer I am a “barely-getting-by” gardener. The grass in my fence beds winds its way into not only my perennials but my dreams at night!

Springtime requires extreme productivity because very soon it will be too hot and humid to spend much time outdoors unless we are in the water.  In the summer, I will look through the windows and see everything a bit droopy and realize it all needs water, weeding and care, and I will feel like a bad gardener. 

But for now, I am breathing in the scent of spring rain, enjoying the bright yellow of the forsythias, the leaves popping out all over the lady banks roses, the blues, purples, oranges and pinks of the pansies, azaleas and moss phlox, and I’m holding onto the few days when I’m thinking I am a good gardener.

Sending thoughts of sunshine your way,

Trish