[Just a heads up that I write a bit about death in this one and if that is too morose for you right now then I’d suggest skipping this one.]
The other day I looked down on the 6 or 7 trays of transplants that are scattered around the holding area near the back door and I started to panic. I am behind. There are too many plants to get into the soil and there is no obvious set of priorities. It all needs to happen now! On top of that the garden is growing and changing. Spring crops and flowers are coming and going as we move towards summer. There is so much more happening than I can possibly keep up with. Things are crazy, but when I look back on the previous springtimes of my life as a gardener, I wonder why I expected it to be any other way. Things are always crazy in these first few months of the growing season and if given the choice, I wouldn’t want it to be any other way.
My Garden yesterday (June 9, 2015).
Many years ago, when a friend was fighting cancer, he told me that he didn’t think he would make it through to the next spring. He didn’t. Years later, when my cat of 17 years was dying, I wished for her to make it through to the next spring so that she could have one more day lounging in the garden with the sun shining down on her. She didn’t. I think this is one reason why I go a bit mad packing so much into every gardening year. Where I live, the growing season only lasts about 6-7 months out of a full year, if we’re lucky. I jam an entire lifetime into these months because our human lifespan is short and fleeting, and even those of us who are healthy have no real way of knowing if we will make it through winter or if we will have our health when we do.
It’s not that I am not living my life during the off season. It’s just that there are only so many months when I can have the experiences that I do in the garden. I cherish that time. There have been years when work and other obstacles made it so that I could not spend the hours there that I desired; that I needed. I was despondent and miserable in those years and I felt a sort of resentment about the opportunities and experiences that were lost. I remember all of this during the exceptionally busy weeks when I am freaking out about the trays of transplants that I am yet to get into the soil and feeling pulled in a million directions with chores that I am yet to complete.
I am fortunate to be alive, to have this space to grow in for the time that I do, and to be able to do it.
Some things always slide every spring because I am one human and there are limits to what I am capable of pulling off. However, I have never regretted the manic and maddening years when there was too much. What truly needs to get done does, and the spontaneity that comes out of the madness brings with it all sorts of experiences and lessons that I could never have predicted.
I dug, prepared, and planted a new bed in my neighbour’s yard the other day. More plants equals more work. I’ve got a crazy, but fun season ahead.
I want to try everything in the garden that I can. I want to finish out each growing year feeling full and satisfied, as if I’ve just ended a 6-month feast. If that means a few months of harried, manic, wild, messy, craziness then, okay, bring it on!
Loved this blog. I teeter totter between insanity and calm continually during this time of year. I have 8 trays that still need to go out. 4 of those had to be started again (too late) because the previous seedlings did not make it. I feel behind but then I look at my notes from last year and realize although I am behind on some things, I am not as behind as I was last year. LOL. Staying in the moment works for me– what do I need to do now? If I give myself little chunks I stay quite happy and content. I just cannot look up from what I am doing or I tangent and panic. Enjoy your happy place during these months. AND this is chaos we chose right? :-)
I understand – we have a short season here too. Several years ago what I wanted most was for my mother-in-law to have another summer in her garden. We were not that lucky, but I was able to take cuttings and offsets from her beautiful (professionally landscaped, and full of prize winning hydrangeas) garden, so it’s like a little part of her carries on in our garden (less grand, but just as loved).
We bought our house from a widow who moved to be closer to her daughter. Her husband was a botanist who had passed five years prior. Together they had frantically gardened their little suburban lot. All the neighbors still remark how that old couple were always out weeding and pruning and digging.
And for the first few years we lived there, each spring would start a whole show of tulips then jasmine (I think) then peonies then lilies and so on. Roses would suddenly appear in corners of the yard. I don’t know anything about gardening, but I could see all that work and time and love echoing back out of the ground every year. We didn’t touch it. We didn’t really have time anyway with the new baby and the older girls and our jobs.
It’s been almost ten years now and the show has mostly died away, but I’ve started taking it over. I kind of felt like I had to, but I also wanted to. I planted bulbs last fall and I think they all came up. I’ve been pruning back the forsythia and I think it’s budding more than it has been recently. I need to split the peonies because the ants found the kitchen this year. The kids are planting things to attract more birds and butterflies and it looks like I’ll be harvesting my own brussels sprouts this summer.
I don’t believe in ghosts but I don’t have to. The life you touch stays in the earth longer than you think. And strangers like me can see it and it changes our lives.
Beautifully said. Thank you.
An older lady who lived in front of me passed away this spring. Her and her husband had only lived in the house a few years, but it was their first home with a yard. She adored her gardens and throughout her illness, I kept hoping she would have one more season in her yard. It wasn’t to be.
This has been my first year ever where I’ve had the time to pursue gardening tasks at the proper time, and it has been an extreme pleasure. I went a bit nuts on the flowers and planters but I love it.
Somehow plants are the most sincereful keepers of the past. My mother keeps many plants of my grandmother in her garden, and though the house and many belongings have gone, her roses and hydrangeas thrive. It makes sense to me that her plants keep her somewhat alive after death much more than any spiritual idea I’ve heard of.
I totally get this. Thank you.
I have so many plants left too – which when I started them all back in the winter inside, I thought: “I’ll just give away the extras”…but I worked so hard to nourish them, that I want to try and squeeze as many of these extras in as I can! I feel that I start getting on schedule, and then something happens – ehm, flea beetles?! Week of rain!?- and I fall behind again.
The garden is like a race. I prep ALL winter for it, and think I have all the plans perfect so that I can systematically get everything in perfect, and then race day comes – and it pours rain hehehe; or I see a new plan that I want to put in instead, and messes everything else up….have to love the spontaneity of gardening :) And I do really, really love it :)
I understand what you are going through .. I do it to myself every garden season which seems to take forever to start (Kingston) .. I too want to experience as much as possible in my garden (my little Eden) but every year there seems to be something to throw it off. This year we have professional landscapers fixing mistakes the “UN-professional guy we had last year .. so now I have to contain myself as some of my plants are trodden on , buried under gravel … the means justifies the end ? sort of saying because the flagstone pathways will finally be safe for me to walk on without doing a face plant in the garden after tripping over a rock edge jutting out.
You speak of your cat .. I am so sorry … I still mourn my Molly who was dying from what we will never know .. cancer was spoken. Having to put her to sleep when she was so loved and we didn’t want her to suffer, was one of the worst times of my life.
I don’t know what I was supposed to learn from such heartache …
In any case … I too put too much pressure on myself with my garden .. OCD ? just wanting to have it look perfect ? I don’t know.
But know I am exhausted … I am sick with serious conditions .. but I still want to connect with my garden so badly it actually hurts.
What is it about us that does that ? …
I found comfort in your post … that I am not the only one this crazy …there is solace in knowing there are others like me ?
Thank you !
Joy : )
This was something I needed to read right now. Too many things to do in the garden that I’ve been too busy/broke for. My grandmother just passed away, and one of my best friends isn’t going to survive cancer to too much longer. I’m so heartbroken, but the garden is a wonderful thing. I live at high elevation–we had a little bit of snow at the very end of May. Gotta’ get to that garden! Give all the beautiful living things a chance! Thanks for your wonderful writing. I don’t comment often, but I have kept up with your blog over the years.
Your post was very thoughtful. We humans often come to appreciate something when it is fleeting. As a young girl I certainly didn’t value the heat and slowness of summer, or the sounds of cicadas. I remember building tents in the backyard and following my grandfather around the garden as he explained how he grew his roses and vegetables. Your garden reminds me a little of his so I love when you post photos of it.
Winter expectations yield to spring realities, but hope and excitement cultivated during cold months come to life in the garden’s lushness – it’s our reward for being dreamers. It seems like the leafy bounty pours forth just for me, and that’s somewhat true as I have been the sole conductor of this visual orchestra. I feel rushed and dash around tying up loose ends, sinking in seedlings and rearranging clumps of perennials, labeling and propping, yet every evening chores are left undone when I reluctantly go back inside. It does not feel like work, though, it feels like splendor and bliss.
My sister in law, also an avid gardener, is on home hospice care due to cancer for this, her last spring. She is not near enough for me to cut a bouquet for her and I hope her husband or grown kids are doing so as I can imagine how uplifting I would find that simple gesture. My husband is recuperating (mentally and physically) from prostate cancer surgery 11 days ago. He has graduated to walking wobbly laps through the garden paths in his boxer shorts, catheter bag in hand. We are grateful for many benefits the gardens bring to our daily lives, notably exercise, nutrition, birdwatching, eye-popping beauty and a sense of achievement.
“Gardening is the slowest of the performing arts.”
May Brawley Hill
This post moved me like no other you have shared. It really strikes a chord. Thank you for sharing your thoughts and experiences so openly.
I agree with Beverly – “Gardening is the slowest of the performing arts” -May Brawley Hill
When I started gardening… not so long ago, I wanted everything. Beautiful flowers, amazing path and a sitting area to write when the weather allows. I planted some of the perennials and even started to renovate the path. But at some point it started to feel like it’s too much of work. I wanted the results but wasn’t prepared for the actual amount of effort they require. My motivation suffered and I wanted to quit. I wanted to make this place my little paradise, but I was failing.
I guess it’s quite common to overwhelm yourself. Especially if you are new to all this.
So, as Gayla’s doing here, I decided to share my experience about the mistakes we make.
New and experienced gardeners can find some useful advice here:
https://oliviajoyce.exposure.co/4-massive-mistakes-new-gardeners-should-avoid-at-all-costs
Your story is really touching. Make sure to enjoy every second of your life and cherish your time, especially in the garden. When I spend time in my garden I feel peaceful and relaxed, which is essential for strong body and mind. Stress is what makes us sick and tired.