Chalkboard illustration by Davin Risk.
There’s a double meaning to this title and if you’re over 21 I suspect that you know exactly what I’m talking about.
I’ve got aches and pains all over. I took advantage of the great weather this weekend to cross several items off of my April garden to-do list. I know I should identify and stay within my limits, or stretch first, at least. I know I should, but I rarely do. Scratch that. I never do.
Yesterday, I kept telling myself that enough was enough and then I was out there again pushing this 40-year-old body well beyond, its gardening muscles half-way to atrophied from a winter spent indoors.
By Sunday morning a third raised bed was prepped, planted, and covered. The raspberry canes were pruned, we dug up the pear tree, and moved mulch around. When I pulled muscles in my right arm, side, and leg climbing the fence into the neighbour’s yard, I told myself, “That is it, enough is enough!”
Revived from lunch I announced, “I’ll just prune the clematis and then I’m done.” And when the clematis was pruned and I had plucked every last remaining morning glory seedpod from the fence, I found more excuses to keep picking away at this and that until it was past dark and my back had very nearly broken in half.
I am suffering for it today. Oh, how I am suffering. A tube of Traumeel is on its way home as I write this. But it was worth it and I’d do it all over again. After this long, brutal winter it feels SO GOOD to be outside making a garden again. I don’t think I have ever been as enthusiastic as I am this spring (and that’s saying a lot) nor as appreciative for what I have to work with.
I can’t wait for it all to unfold.
p.s. Someone kick me in August when I start complaining about the heat.
This cracked me up–not because I don’t feel your pain, but because I am feeling the exact same thing! (The massage appointment is scheduled.) It is like I cannot fathom that I will have months to work in the garden, and I need not squeeze it all into one day. After this horrible winter, we are having the most gorgeous spring I can remember. I still have the delusion that I’ll get the ornamental part of the garden “finished” and then sit back and enjoy it–ha!
I am right there with you!
Overachieving, then hobbling and wincing.
But it’s a “good” kind of pain and exhaustion because one can see the immediate results of one’s labor and know that the remainder of the season will be better for this effort.
Every spring I tell myself I’m not going to overdo it right out of the gate and then that’s exactly what I do.
We need a support group.
Mellencamp’s “Hurts So Good” seems to be an appropriate song to throw in here.
I had the same weekend! On Thursday, the stump from a 60+ year old siberian elm cut down in 2012 was finally ground out of my backyard. I had to move all of the resulting sawdust and woodchips, and it was about 24 wheelbarrow laods. We were anticipating a large snowfall on Sunday, so I wanted to get it done. Saturday morning, all of the sawdust was done and I ended up turning the soil one shovelfull ata time where the tree was, and surrounding areas, removing any roots in the top foot of soil, and created a new garden that is 19’x13′ for okra, sqaush, sunflowers, sunberries, artichokes and ground cherries. Sunday was spent doing pretty much nothing. Now that it’s Tuesday, I’m mostly recovered. We did that snow – about 5 inches,a nd temps down to 19 degrees. Thankfully, all of my plants and even my lilac buds survived the overnight freeze. Only the bleeding heart looks, well, it looks like it had a rough night. I hope it recovers. I wasn’t able to garden at all last year because I bought a new house and got in too late to really geta good start – not to mention I had to build a garden from nothing, and so I feel like I have lost time to make up for.
Aaaugh, I’m only 23 and I’m already getting it! I’ve got to find a good place to get a massage or something…
Ha! In addition to gardener’s back it sounds like we all suffer from not-being-able-to-stop-itis.
The other day I was pulling out a tuber from an unwanted plant (no idea what it was but the tuber was 18″ long with a 4″ diameter…) and when it finally gave way I basically fell back onto my butt. Everything hurts!
I feel your pain. Last week, it was a glorious 80F (~26C) and I spent a day moving two cubic yards of finely sifted compost from a truck into a new vegetable bed. The day after (when I still had about half a cubic yard of soil to go), I felt as nimble as a mummy. Stiffness from collarbone to knees. Too ashamed to let the yoga instructor find out.
ahhhh, thank you for this. not because misery loves company but for the simpatico – the glory and the agony of being 48 years old and in my first home :) two weeks in and am surviving on acupuncture, meloxicam, wine & then Bikram yoga to force it all back into alignment. and totally, utterly worth it! seedlings! have arrived!
I’m planning on doing another yoga beginner class so when I’m in the garden doing my warm up exercises whilst chatting to my new neighbour who has lots of lovely statues in her garden and is just starting to buy plants to fill in her gaps hopefully I wont get the back ache. I tried kneeling on knee pads and such like but I just finish weeding have another look at it and I think oh I’ll just stretch over here to get those dead leaves well I am not to stretch..I have to walk in and take them off don’t I!!!!!!
I have to laugh at the line of comments. I will ask myself, “Why does my back ache?” when I spent hours pruning and hauling branches!
I sit on the sort of plastic crate that many of us used to support boards for a book shelf. It elevates me and provides something to hold onto while getting up. I recommend that for anyone wanting to protect knees, hips and your back.
While digging or pruning, I never feel it. I guess it’s the magic of gardening.
I call it “The Pain of Passion”. We all hurt, but we love the pain. Can’t get enough of the gardening. It’s such a nice spring this year that we just can’t stop working on our gardens! I missed this pain during the winter though.