As I stagger around my home this morning, the Sunday of Victoria Day (aka May Long) weekend, I squint at the cold sun as I open the curtains. High overcast, coolish 8C, perfect weather to toil in the garden. The image of “what shall I wear” brings flannel shirts, rubber boots, and work gloves to mind. Coffee brings my brain into gear, and I realize: My home, the entire house, has turned into a Garden Shed.
Every end table, every surface is covered with garden effluvia. Dozens of seed catalogues, Old Farmers Almanacs..it continues to the dining room where 30 odd seed packets, a hand cranked seeder, a couple of hand trowels are taking over the space we usually have dinners at. 15 bedding plants, ranging from tomatoes to basil are greeting me from their night in from the frosty elements as they lounge on the dining table.
Onwards to the kitchen, I haul out pans to prep breakfast for hubby and myself. Eggs poaching, bacon sizzling, I let the cat out and see the sunroom is now...indescribable. Lol what a far cry from my 20’s, 30’s and 40’s - the May Long as we called this weekend, was about motorcycles. Seed catalogues, netting, garden tools replace parts catalogues and biker magazines. The sound of Harleys warming up is replaced by the weed whacker, and lawn mowers. Oh man, I am getting old! Lol
Do I miss going on a long weekend ride? Camping in a tent, or getting a cheap motel for the night, too many beers as we swapped tall tales and occasionally waking to cold wet snow? Well, as a slightly arthritic 60 something, I admit...the aches from digging beat the exhaustion of a full on May Long 3 day party. There I said it.
Now, a cold brew at the end of a day digging out endless aggressive raspberry plants, feels awesome! With hubby beside me from our lawn chairs,we survey the yard: our new raised garden beds, the abundant bird life, new shoots and trimmed lawn...its bliss!
Is it hard work? Well the Tylenol and Aspirin bottles on the breakfast table say it is. Does it hurt? Oh I’d be lying if I said I could bound out of bed like I was 30. To me, competitive to the end, its a battle I need to win. Me against the untended mess which will become a fertile patch full of potatoes, turnips, parsnips. I will win! The brilliant green pea shooting out of the earth, makes my heart beat faster. 😁 The eager twin leaves of radish drawing a bright line me feel like I am winning. Even my shabby home made compost bin brings me joy.
Do I miss the old days of camping with friends, oh yes at times it is over whelming. With the Government (a word that I detest, that makes me feel like its a thistle that needs removing) imposing pandemic isolation makes me recall friends, getting together, having fun, all the things Das Fuhrer and his Goose Stepping zombies have deemed Verbodden. I struggle at times when I see the effect of Pandemic Puke flowing over everything I love, I miss, I need. As I pick up kleenex and disposable face masks off my lawn it’s obvious things will never ever be normal again. Ever. We've become prisoners to the fools the East have given power to. It makes me feel anger, depression, lonliness. I am tired of pretending Zoom meetings fill a need for socializing. It doesn’t. The thought Police are happily hard at work. H G Wells was right on the money! 1984 Forever.
Then I look outside, and all thoughts return to what I will accomplish in my garden today. Because I realize I can’t rely on a better tomorrow, just on how I manage the here and now. The shovel and wheel barrow await, my mint needs planting, the seedlings will be netted off this morning (thanks to Mac, Guardian of New Sprouts) the cat will terrorize the blackbirds, and I will smile and hum to myself as I wage war on the raspberry canes. The sun shines through high clouds, and life is good.
