The wedding is complete, Genny and Josh are
on their honeymoon and I am back in the garden (yeah!). I also took over Tondu duty yesterday from
Janine, who had done her fair share of puppy sitting the past week. Tondu loves being outside, so she actually is
a good gardening partner, but she is . . . well, a Daschund. And anyone who knows anything about Daschunds
knows these little creatures are troublemakers.
Tondu is no exception.
So off into the garden Tondu and I went last night, she
investigating every leaf and clump of dirt, while I got busy fertilizing the
herbs with an organic fish emulsion because it is oh so healthy for those newly
developing stems and leaves. Plus,
because the emulsion is glob that gets dissolved into water, the roots absorb
it pretty quickly. Unbeknownst to me,
however, Tondu had been drinking the runoff of the fertilizer as I was busy
deadheading– and to boot, had eaten some mint leaves whose lower stems were
also freshly soaking in the liquid fish emulsion. By the time I discovered Tondu’s
mischief it was too late. Of course, it
was even later, while in the house, that Tondu threw up (on the carpet, of
course, where else?). Yucky brown murk
mixed with herbs and smelling to high heaven. I cleaned up after her and by the
time Tondu and I were headed to bed, we both smelled as though we had been
cutting fish bait all day. To spare
Mike, we slept downstairs last night.
Besides Tondu’s antics yesterday, it’s been a busy week in
the garden, cutting dead branches out of the Russian sage, retraining ivy to
grow up the side of the house, clipping wild grass along the garden borders,
pulling out plants that died and replanting new starters. There is still so much more to do, but the
caretaking is paying off and the garden is finally coming along. It doesn’t look so neglected anymore.
While I work in the garden, I usually have my camera with
me. You just never know what you are
going to see. A small black and red bird barely noticeable in a wetland field,
clematis buds ready to pop open their purple glory, miniature carnations stretching
heads upward. Little moments and slices
of life that cannot be captured at a later time. The perfect picture is there if I see it and
if I can grab my camera in time. And if my zoom is powerful enough. Wishing for a new zoom lens for Christmas now.
Now that I’m unemployed and moving at a more leisurely pace,
I take coffee in the garden each morning.
Even this morning, with the smoke from close by forest fires drifting
through the air. I’m finding a new me in
this time spent with nature. A me that exists independently from the labels and busyness of a nearly forty year career, a me that is no longer required as full time caregiver to a dearly loved daughter, a me that stands outside human disease and cancer. There’s something both spectacular and simple in witnessing the awakening of flowers in the crisp, cool light of
a new day. They stand tall and strong, these plants, refreshed from dew and not yet worn out by the blaring heat of long Colorado
afternoons. The garden needs nothing from me in early morning hours, and instead, simply offers the glory of
its natural beauty. Here in the morning
garden, surrounded by creation and new life, I think of possibilities and new ways of being. I think of how short the growing season of summer is in Colorado. How important it is to breathe. To smell. To see. The time has arrived in my life to sit quietly, in wonderment.
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