Somewhere I stopped thinking about blogging. Just living my life, contentedly at that, never intending to stop, just not really thinking about it one way or the other. I am still just living my life, and still rather contentedly even though that life is somewhat different now that society has hit pause. And so it seems I cannot really explain why I stopped, or why I am here, writing again.
Instead I will show some pictures of the garden, signs of new growth, signs of things that need to be done, and may or may not be done at that. Somehow the pause is reminding me that life and the world will go on whatever we think of it.
I planted peas, perhaps late for Tennessee, at the very end of February, before going on a trip. I planted fava beans as well, after I returned, in mid March, only because I couldn’t find them locally and had to order them, perhaps also too late for Tennessee. But at the price of a pack of seeds, it seems better to try than to do nothing. The peas are up. And I have materials to assemble a trellis for them to climb. That was my goal for yesterday, and for today, but well, that is on hold at the moment.
Yesterday I was digging holes to plant three baby gem boxwoods when I got a little over-ambitious, did something stupid, and fell, hard, on my bottom. I lay on the ground a few minutes, admiring the new blossoms on the blueberry shrub, shown above, before getting myself upright and realizing I would not finishing planting shrubs that day.
A kind neighbor planted the shrubs for me. It took him about 15 minutes. It took me that long to walk out the front door and drag the hose up for him to water the newly planted shrubs. Today I am still moving stiffly, and am currently nestled in a pile of cushions on the sofa, where I will probably spend much of the day. I cannot stand, or bend over well, I can walk slowly and need to do that often. The pain is muscular, not sciatic, and I will recover. A pea trellis will probably not be built today, but I will get two boston ferns transferred from pots into the planters by the front door. If I do anything else, it probably be walking behind a mower, but since it is raining now, that too is a task that may be put off for another day.
I can knit. I am working on a prayer shawl, and a pair of socks (above). The yarn is Lichen and Lace in the color Citron. I love the happy yellow green color, a color I have always loved combined with purples and blues.
Here is a small itch peony starting to show its leaves. I am inclined to think this spot is too shady, that it may need to be moved. That may not happen this year. The digging in the garden is going to be harder than I had hoped. Despite the specification that the new beds all be filled with 10” of topsoil without rocks, that topsoil is mostly clay and heavy, and it is filled with rocks. The landscape crew had a great talent for coming to work on days I was not home. The area I dug yesterday was solid gravel 5 inches below the soil, part of the difficulty with planting shrubs. I hauled two large buckets of gravel with some clay to a low spot in the slope at the back of the yard before I took my tumble. I can dig through even packed good soil, but through clay, especially clay studded with rock, it will be a more ambitious project. I am tired of ambitious projects, but I am also determined, and tired of paying people to not do what I specified.
The worst thing that can happen is I will have fields of weeds. Weeds which will have to be pulled and turned into compost or turned under. Time will help the soil. And despite my anger and frustration at things that were not done, plants that are not in the right spots, human failings, I am also touched by unexpected human kindnesses. A person I do not know offering to plant my shrubs. All of this seems appropriate to this time. There will be setbacks and loss, but there will also be coming together and kindness.
No point in mourning that which is past or gone. This plot of land will still be here. Nature will prevail, whatever I do or do not manage. And there will always be surprises. For example I love the colors the rain has created on this paver.
I love that the camellias are showing the lushest bloom I have seen since buying this house. I love that the azaleas I bought last spring are all leafing out and showing buds, that life goes on, and that people carry on. The world reminds us that through every struggle, every winter, there will be a spring.
I leave you with this, one of the first blossoms on the flowering crabapple off the back deck. I hope you and yours are safe. I hope you find peace and joy, not isolation and fear. If you can take a moment, let me know how you are doing. We are all molecules in a great social network or web. Let’s keep these fragile chains alive.
