I spent the nicest morning in the garden earlier today.
It was cloudy and 74° and a little muggy, just like a beach vacation. We’ve had day upon unbearable day of 100°+, so this was strange and wonderful. Later, the wind kicked up as it all too often does out here; I dislike the wind and so do my lungs, so I felt chuffed to have outsmarted the weather and gotten in a lovely morning’s work of potato planting. I woke up with energy and got going early, so stars and celestial bodies really must have aligned.
From breaking into grassy pasture in March, to this fairly flourishing and respectable-looking garden, I am pleased and impressed. The whole thing has felt like a giant struggle and a battle against too many factors that threatened to sink the whole plan. Not the least of which was my having precious little energy, and certainly none to waste. And for many months, the whole thing felt like a stupid waste of energy. That’s not a happy feeling.
But recently as the plants have really begun rebounding from “The Grasshoppers, Etcetera” the feeling I get when going out there is one of uplift and satisfaction. I have a smile on my face instead of a furrowed brow. It’s all coming together and it’s starting to look like a real country garden. The plants are obviously happy and it shows.
Happy plants, happy gardener!
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