We spent the weekend planting bushes and flowers, something I never thought I would find myself doing. City girls don’t farm well and that’s what the nursery is for – delivery and a teenager with a strong back to dig the holes.
Dirt? My hands in it? Nope. My nails? Dirt stuck under my nails? Ack! Bugs? Oh no, not me. Worms? Oh God, no. Not me.
I have learned to adapt, as I have with everything here in the country. To know I did a lot of it myself is the best reward. I still don’t like the feel of the dirt in my hands, so I wear gloves. I talked to a toad after he jumped out of one of my flowerpots, and it was in language that wouldn’t burn the ears off of a kindergartner. A farmer I will never be; but I appreciate beauty when I see it. This ‘ole city girl is getting there.
Seeing the end result has changed me, somehow. The bulbs we planted in the fall have all but spent themselves now and it made me anxious for more color. It was time to replenish our view along the walkways and I was excited to do it. Little by little I’ve come to appreciate the unique surprise in working with my hands and creating something out of nothing. One could say I do this with writing, but it’s not the same. The beauty of the begonias, petunias and pansies, the layout of marigolds against the green grass and the explosion of poppies make me yearn for the sunshine and the smell of freshly cut green grass. Even though I sneeze my head off, it is all worth it.
A lot of the planting is done without forethought by Mother Nature, with a helping hand offered by her cousin, windy afternoon. Holly Hocks along the white picket fence multiply like hangers in my closet; I never seem to realize how many I have, and am always surprised to find them. Lined up like soldiers, I appreciate them being there and would never thin them out.
Little bluebells show up along the side of the house as another gift from the rolling breeze of the lake and seeds from my neighbors, for I know I never planted them. I think we probably share a lot of the same flowers, trading and comparing without our ever realizing it. They are truly gifts given freely and I love them all.
Between my beloved, myself and Mother Nature, we got the job done. Someday, I’ll be able to appreciate the worms; but not yet. One thing at a time.
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