We spent the better part of Sunday putting the finishing touches on our garden for this year: spreading yards of mulch, positioning l.e.d. path lights and moving pines for privacy.
It’s a funny thing to tend a garden in the northeast. In a sense, you have to learn to let go. In the winter, snow covers your favorite perennials, and you have to have faith that they will return. In the short days of summer, you learn to appreciate every fleeting moment. As a new gardener to this area, I’ve had to adjust my understanding: the climate is different here and different species grow better than the ones that I had grown accustomed to planting. Replacement is a fact of life – some plants do not come back.
Gardening is my meditation. When I’m outside — bandana, hat and gloves on — I think of nothing else but the task at hand. I’m totally in the moment. I love to watch things grow and take delight in the native plants, especially wildflowers, that crop up here and there. Just today, I discovered a whole patch of ripe wild strawberries. Tiny and tart, they tickled my tongue. I also noticed new ferns that are a very light green and beautifully dainty.
For me, time stands still in the garden. So, it’s magical. There is a peace and tranquility that connect me with my inner spirit and a sense of freedom that just allows me to “be.”
After my labors of love, I showered, and then sat on the front porch swing, admiring the work we’d done. In the garden, you get to see, in real time, the fruits of your labor. What could be better?
