Saturday In The Garden – Part 1

This is what I had done before the death in my last entry. It’s a bit long for me-blame it on the writing class! Thank you all for your supportive notes on my death entry-I’m sure T was greatly buoyed by all the good vibes – I know I was.

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I rolled over before becoming fully conscious and tentatively reached out to test the waters. Was it morning? Yes, I could tell the room was lighter even through the double protective layer of closed eyes and closed curtains. If it was morning, then it could legitimately be time for me to wake up. Damn. I opened my eyes and visually confirmed what I already knew. It was indeed morning. This was directly reconfirmed by the uncomfortably full sensation radiating from my bladder. Eyes held stubbornly in obstinate half slits, I stumbled to the bathroom, all the while silently praying that it was not really morning and that I was not really awake.

With a much-comforted bladder, I stumbled back to bed. I knew it was morning and that I was awake, yet I clung single-mindedly to the anchor of denial. Back under the covers I found the spot I had just recently vacated still warm and snuggled in. Two hours later I again floated upwards towards consciousness. This time I feel more equipped to face the day.

As I fix breakfast I think about what I will do today. The house needs cleaning. I may have a houseguest tomorrow for a couple of days. I bought some Zap, which my father has purported to be nothing short of a miracle for restoring grimy stained bathtubs, and I need to try it out. I have a grimy, stained tub that has, so far, resisted my best efforts at making it look anything but grimy and stained. While scrambling my eggs it becomes apparent to me that I will be trapped in housecleaning purgatory today. Ugh.

When I let the dog out for her morning stroll, I notice that it is much warmer today than it has been in a good long while. The sky is stained with purple and gray smudges that threaten rain, but so far it is an idle threat. Dry plus warm. That equals yard work and a temporary escape from a purgatory of Clorox fumes and vacuum cleaner growlings.

Where to start? The back patio needs a good tidying. So does the lower back patio. There are still plenty of leaves to bag up from the fall. These are the ones still left after my son and I had filled 27 of Lowes 30 gallon lawn refuse bags. I had piled these refuse bag refugees around the bottom of the trees in the guise of mulching them. I have 20 or so Hostas to plant and what will most likely prove to be an uncountable number of winter dead freeze-dried plants to un-plant.

After long winter months of bad weather and unbridled neglect, my garden is in dire need of attention. Everything looks gray and battle-scarred. I start with what is closest to me. Just off the covered patio are dead limbs that have fallen victim to winter’s chill embrace. I hesitate for a moment before depositing them into a Lowes bag. The bag clearly states that it is for lawn clippings and leaves. A limb is neither a lawn clipping nor a leaf. Wait a minute! Since when do I listen to what a BAG has to say? Into the Lowes bag go the branches.

What’s next? Leaves, leaves – everywhere leaves! I start scooping up leaves and depositing them into the Lowes bag along with the branches. That ought to appease the spirit of the great Lawn Refuse Bag Gods. Soon it becomes obvious that another bag is needed and I head to the garage to get one from the shelf. I know, it’s hard to believe that I have extra bags after my fall lawn refuse spree, but I do.

On the way to the garage I notice the cluster of potted plants sitting atop the table on the lower patio. Those poor plants. There they sit, in various stages of death throes. I really should do something about that. I sort out the 2 ivy plants. They’re still green at least. A little stringy and sad looking – but green nevertheless. I place them back in their previous places of honor in the garden and turn back to the other pots, which hold collections of brown sticks of varying heights. Maybe, just maybe, if I clean up the pots a little I can group them artistically and call it some sort of exotic Asian garden. If I say it’s the latest New Age craze to promote harmony and well being no one will ever question me.

With a resigned sigh, I grab a couple of the harmonious stick gardens and lug them up to the patch of garden I’ve cleared of leaves. Planted there in a primo location in the middle of a stone circle border (right next to the garden funny bunny statue) are the remains of what were once presumably regal Boston Ferns. I set to digging up the ferns and pruning them in my own fashion. My fashion is molded after the greatest tradition of the elite Black Thumb Gardening Circle. I said a quick prayer to the Earth Mother, asking her to help these poor ferns overcome my tender ministrations and thrive as I transplanted them into one of the pots that formerly housed a stick garden.

Now that I had unplanted the area inside the stone circle, I needed to replant it. The ground was packed down hard so I went about the task of aerating the soil. Somewhere, most likely in another life, I had come across the concept of soil aeration and knew in my heart that it is a good thing. I took my little gardeners trowel and set to work turning soil. Hang on. The soil is moving on its own. I hesitated a moment before bending to look closer as thoughts of Harry Potter’s Herbology class and magical plants (specifically the Whumping Willow) popped into my head. Wishful thinking. I looked down at the animated soil and saw an earthworm. Awesome! I actually have a garden with soil yummy enough to support at least one earthworm.

Feeling encouraged, and optimistically hoping that the presence of an earthworm raised the chances of anything I plant to above 0%, I proceeded to plant some Hostas. They’re just little Hosta buds. I hope I got the right side down. Heck – it all looks like roots to me! What an odd plant – nothing but roots. Then I repotted another of the stick gardens with still more Hostas. I doctored up (at least I hope I was doctoring rather than terminating) the Rabbit’s Foot Fern. I cleared and bagged more leaves. I watered my newly sown charges. Then it was time to clean up a little and put things away.

(Continued..)