Growing Pains
Today I took a break from playing with myself and worked in the garden. I spaded a 6' x 8' area. I spread composted manure. I raked it all smooth. I planted five 6' rows of seeds, one each of Simpson lettuce, some kind of exotic lettuce mixture, peas, carrots and Swiss chard. Then I came back into the house, took a double dose of ibuprofin, and curled up on the bed, moaning (with pain, not pleasure). Tomorrow I will attempt to duplicate that performance and add another six feet to the length of the five rows. But if my latent masochism will not rise to the challenge...well, at least I have those first seeds launched. And I should be recovered enough by Saturday to resume the project.
Gardening is probably the only domestic chore that I enjoy. My father was an avid gardener and when I was a little girl I was happy to help him, however I could. I have fond memories of Daddy showing me how to prepare the soil and plant the seeds. Then, when they sprouted and reached a certain height, he showed me how to thin the plants. He was a big, strong hard-working man, with big, rough hands. But when he was thinning the carrots or lettuce, he was amazingly precise and almost gentle. Though he's been gone for twenty-two years, I think of him every single time I work in
the garden, and even though I'm a die-hard atheist and don't believe in an afterlife, I can feel him looking over my shoulder, smiling his approval.
7 comments:
Sensing the spirit of someone is not the same as ritualized religion. Your father is part of you, remember and rejoice.
And don't play with yourself around the veges if the neighbor's kid is watching. In today's climate that's jail time.
Thank you for the kind and thoughtful comment, Bill. I will "remember and rejoice."
As for your second paragraph, don't worry. I keep a small tent in the back yard for emergencies.
I think it's very sweet and touching that you think of your dad. I think of my grandma because she taught me about gardening as much as anyone did.
I hope you enjoy the dirt time. It's hard to not overdo it, isn't it?
gardening is one of the best therapies i know
i miss gardening in NY
I wish I was good a gardening. Before Roscoe passed he dug up some holes in the back yard. I keep telling myself that I am going to plant some roses, but I just know they will die and make my backyard look a mess.
That's lovely that you think of your dad while doing the gardening. It must be a great comfort. Seriously.
Now, who do you think of when you're doing that other chore.
In the other garden...
Lisa: Yes, "it's hard to not over do it." Iven when I'm tired, I think...just a couple more rows...and then a couple more, until everything hurts, but I feel good!
DC: I couldn't stand to live in a big city, with no room to garden.
One Man: Where there's a will, there's a way. Just get your fingers in the dirt and get started. It's so rewarding.
fengfk: Go fengfk yourself!
fingers: Who do I think of when I'm doing that other...um...chore? I think of you, dear. ;)
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