I told my husband this morning that I’m beside myself with frustration and grief from the garden shrub and tree flowering that got screwed up with our early warm spell and freeze this March. There was no umbrella of blossoms on the weeping cherry tree. There are three blooms on the wisteria. And the beautiful tulip magnolia tree next door just sprouted leaves without flowers. I am grieving for the Spring that got stolen.
It happens every year. The wisteria gets interrupted. The hydrangea bushes were taken back down to the ground as were the figs. An ill-timed frost takes out whatever shrub or tree is preparing it’s tender timid blossoms and shoots at the moment. And in the event of snowfall, a garage roof avalanche takes out your rosemary bushes.
My husband said,”Well you can’t control nature.” I stare at him. Is it that I am angry that I can’t control it? Or is it that I already see enough grief in the world without having my backyard oasis turn on me too? I had given over the vegetable gardening to my husband after a crop of six-foot tall tomatoes were devastated and demolished by a downy white mildew blight. It wasn’t personal, just nature and the wind. And I gave up.
Except understand, there are nine garden beds around my house. And I am happy with zero of them. The lack of enthusiasm doesn’t help to change them and so I carry over my disdain and complacency from year to year. Yes if I could afford to have professionals come in and overhaul them I would. But I can’t so I won’t.
A journey of a thousand miles starts with the first step they say. And drops in the bucket fill it up. I concede that I will have to begin again and forgive mother nature for her cruelty. It’s just business after all, not personal. The business of continuing to decide whether I’m in the game or not. If you pity me and live anywhere near me, tell me what you can do for me. I’m all ears.
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