"Everything
that slows us down and forces patience, everything that sets us back into the slow circles of nature, is a help. Gardening is an instrument
of grace."
May Sarton
I woke this morning with more than a few scratches and plenty of blisters and bumps. I had spent the weekend doing my best impersonation of Edward Scissorhands, having at the gardens of Camp MoneyPit with more than the annual spring wake-up and clean up.
Though we are all picking up our lives and moving forward, the events of the past couple of weeks have left us all a bit unsettled, and I discovered that I needed to go where no matter what may be going on I can find hope and I can do some good-The Gardens.
Still when I looked around the gardens at Camp MP this weekend I knew it I had my work cut out for me. Everything had grown beyond its corner and it was now or never to bring it all under control and do what I could to give the gardens their strength...an overwhelming task that I honestly didn't think I would finish and I nearly tossed my clippers in disgust several times-who on earth planted all of this!
I began at the heart of every bed and corner-my hydrangeas. Last summer was "a little" over the top, the hydrangeas made their presence known,at the expense of everyone beneath their boughs. The lavender and boxwoods and roses had a hard time showing their faces crowded out and covered up by hydrangeas that would have their way. Seriously can you have too many hydrangeas? Nah! Afterall, mine is not a passing fancy when it comes to hydrangeas... yet,even I have to admit they went beyond their bounds. So this weekend each and every one was shown who was in charge and brought down and down and down.
Along the way as I stood sputtering to myself a visitor appeared-round fluffy with piercing glow in the dark green eyes, swishing its tail amongst the thorny rose branches. Now its not that I dislike cats its just that I prefer the company of dogs-ever loyal and loving no matter what the day brings. This cat was just in my way and I tripped over her several times, but she was a guest who came for a visit and clearly had the instinct to know I needed comedy in my day. She rolled around in the pile of weeds, climbed into my giant bright blue garden bags walking off with one on her head, jumped into a pile of rose bush branches without a care and batted away at the hyacinths and tulips as if playing an instrument. She was a nuisance underfoot but clearly was having a better day than I was so I decided if you cant beat 'em join 'em. I let her play in my gardens with very strict instructions- she was not to eat the pansies and not even to think about using the beds as her personal powder room-no promises by a cat should ever be trusted!
By the weekend's end my friend had moved on-off to annoy another gardener no doubt, but I found myself looking for her...did she climb into one of the 14 garden bags I filled-surely I would have noticed if I had bagged her up given her size?! No, she wasn't to be found til later in the day when I went to sweep up and there she sat smack in the middle of one of the many now cleared beds. I had inadvertently made her a very nice spot to sun herself-cleared of hydrangea branches and weeds she was sitting pretty, her fuzzy face speckled with weeds and garden twigs turned toward the warmth of the late afternoon sunshine. My gardens, which now were ready to take on the season, provided her a spot to enjoy her day and whether I invited her not she made herself to home. She had no intention of budging no matter how many times I asked politely and not so politely for her to "scat", so I resigned myself to the fact that my gardens now had a house guest-now if I could just get her to do some weeding.
"All my hurts my garden spade can heal."
-- Ralph Waldo Emerson
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