I had an epiphany today, and not a wonderful one either. It was actually a bit disappointing, to tell the truth.
I was outdoors this morning, working up a flowerbed, and as I spaded, pulled out stray grass and weeds, and worked up the dirt, it dawned on me that I really hate gardening.
Like most people, I love beautiful gardens. I love the green lawns that surround them, and I love little nooks and crannies where unexpected beauty grows, like a hidden corner by a fence or between the roots of a large tree. I love damp mossy places, and I love bright, open beds full of colour. I just don’t like making it happen.
If you know me, you know that I live in the country. Although most of our five acres are wooded, we have flower beds and quite a large lawn (I’m also not a big fan of 2 – 3 hours of mowing each week, by the way.) However, I try to keep the beds looking nice, and perennials are my best friends. You can just work the earth up in the spring, knowing that the plants will soon grow big enough to keep the weeds down. In the fall, if they’ve grown too big or spread too far, you hack them apart, transplant to places that need coverage, and call it a season.
This morning I was hard at work on a flowerbed that runs the length of my husband’s shop. The only perennials in this one, however, are a clump of rhubarb, and a huge hosta that I divided into three. When planting season arrives, it’s due to have sunflowers (for height and colour) and a ton of nasturtiums, because I love their green leaves and cheerful flowers. Also, they’re pretty good at covering every square inch of the flowerbed and I don’t have to worry about weeds until I rip them out in the fall. It was hard work because the dirt is packed solid by snow sliding off the metal roof of the shop. It lands with a thud so loud you can hear it in the house. (Hard work was good, though, because we’re having lunch with friends at The Mandarin tomorrow and I can feel a little less guilty about that now.)
Anyway, after I was finished I took a walk around to see what else was blooming on my gardening agenda. My loving husband worked all winter at clearing an area of woods just beyond our backyard. He cut down small trees that had no chance of growing, hacked out ugly bushes, and kept a bonfire fed with the stuff as he was doing it. It looks great. Only problem is, it’s going to be a challenge to keep the weeds down until the gout weed and rudbeckia I planted last fall can spread. Sigh … it will be a lot of work. But do you know what? I just realized that something good has come out of committing my whining thoughts to “paper”.
- Hard work never killed anyone.
- Anything worth doing is worth doing right, and,
- You’ll enjoy something a whole lot more if you work hard to get it.
That’s right, kids. Instant gratification isn’t all that it’s cracked up to be. Sometimes, working hard at something you don’t really enjoy pays far bigger dividends than you ever imagined. With that in mind, I’ll take my friend Mark’s advice and try to “keep my knees dirty”. His gardens don’t suffer from all the special attention he gives them, and I hope mine turn out okay too.