I just heard the snowplough
go rattling down my street, which means the driveway awaits my attention.
There's no denying it, despite a late start, winter is here and the garden
season of 2015 is finally over.
It was the longest I've known in this area. I actually
worked in my garden for a full nine months beginning with a little pruning in
early March and ending with bulb planting in December.
Now that's something that
needs to be changed — the idea that gardening is work. Sure, mowing a lawn or
digging a hole might be considered work by some, but really, gardening is
anything but work. To me, it's a joy-filled pastime with huge benefits.
But now, deep in this world of muffled senses, ice scrapers,
and salt stained pants, the garden is in hibernation and I'm feeling the
withdrawal a little more than usual. Shoveling snow may be good exercise, but
I'd much rather be pottering about the back yard.
But what's a poor gardener to
do at this time of year? I browse seed catalogues or draw up plans for a
landscaping project, I attend garden conferences, read garden books, pamper the
philodendron a little more than normal, and on occasion, I'll loiter in the
greenhouse at one of our local garden centres, but these things don't quite
make up for my garden.
What's really missing is the spiritual connection I have with the old
place, the total stress busting transformation that takes place when I'm
surrounded by the life affirming growth of living things.
As calm as he appears, I'm sure my garden Buddha is wishing he was some place else too.
It's a good thing spring is only weeks away -- hah!
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