Me: I am tired and sad. I think I’ll stay in the house this weekend and gain some acceptance.
Gardens: Sure no problem. You stay in there and think esoterically. We’ll be out here doing our jobs. We’ll grow clover and crabgrass in places you intended to grow tomatoes and peppers. The callas are planning a coup d’etat into the territories of the day lilies and peonies. The birds are building nests in the bridal wreath bush and the roses are planning to grow into a tall tangle of brambles. We’ll be fine without you.
Me: I hear you. I’ll dig out my garden gloves and tools. I’ll be out shortly.
I love growing things. I love digging in the flower beds and finding places where the peonies I though I completely transplanted are coming back up because I must have left a single bulb behind.
I loves that the callas always want to take over the whole bed so that I am forever having to hack off a huge piece of their root system. The callas do not mind such rough treatment. The original patch continues to spread and any rootling I plant immediately takes hold and grows as well.
I even love that I have to use the loud, heavy rototiller to turn up soil where I plant my vegetables. I throw out lime and fertilizer onto the rich, dark soil then have to repeat the process again within the next week.
To me the point of growing things is to enjoy nature’s resiliency and tenacity (as well as pretty flowers and fresh veggies). Watching how my yard and gardens constantly seek to thrive even in the face of challenges (be they Japanese Beetles or blight) makes me realize how small we all are. And how little good it does me to lament my 3 failed IVF’s…. I imagine that my garden says to me: “Failed 3 times, what’s the big deal? You face scorching heat, bugs, disease and frost in a single season, THEN we’ll talk.”
So I dig in the dirt and feel better.