I’m back in the garden again.
I know you’ve told me, in all this time we’ve known each other, that it’s the least of my worries. That I should just leave it. Well I did. I prioritised the other more “important” tasks. But not doing something that’s crying out for attention, keeping it as a recurring uncrossed-off footnote on a To Do List, was a layer of white noise wearing me down.
It’s a year and a half since Michael took sick. I miss him every day. We always knew he wouldn’t be here forever, but we didn’t think it would be so soon, nor happen as quickly when it did. A lot can unravel in a year and a half. Not least strategies for keeping a garden (and a life) in order. The forest was growing up around the windows. I was about to get Australia Post little sharp swords, for their little yellow post-bikes, just so they could deliver the mail.
Then one morning, a month or so ago, almost by accident, I spent some time in the garden at dawn. It set me up for the day as efficiently as if I’d gone for a run. I do well with exercise first thing. Other mornings I go to the gym or the pool. Now, on a Wednesday, I garden.
Just an hour.
Just fill the bin.
Just getting it under control, one metre at a time.
Soon the whole garden will be back to beautiful again. Perhaps. As long as the water holds out, and I’m not away too much. And even if it doesn’t, I already feel calmer. I’ve taken one of the jobs from my To-Do List and given it a space of its own, as I have with Office-Day-Friday, and the week’s allocated studio days.
The garden will always demand more time and energy than I can give it, just as there’s always more social media posts to upload, and web pages to edit, or dare I say it: artwork to be created. It will never be the same as when Michael cared for it, but with each successive Wednesday a little more calm and order happens. Finding time for this apparently less important part of my life, I’ve given myself space to get more done everywhere else.
And my world is a better place for it.