By Heather Grimes:
I'm gardening with a sad heart near the end of this season.
I've battled the heat, drought, ticks, sunburn, backache and weeding boredom. Now I'll have to garden without the nursery I've come to depend on. I suppose most gardeners go through an end-of-season burnout, like some kind of addiction, where I want to stop, but the gardens keep pulling me in, like-
'Look, Weed Me.'
' Pretty Plant For Sale.'
' Redo, Dig Up Everything.
It's hard to stop the obsession even when I want to. The thing is, gardens give me great pleasure. Pleasure that's almost all visual, without real practicality and benefit, aside from feeding a few insects and deer. Just like flowers you pick for the house, which live a few days and then die, gardens are similar, a little longer lived, but not by much if you stop tending them. I've come to see gardens as a human extravagance, something only we do. Maybe it's part of what makes us what we are, beings that labor for something that's only beautiful. I believe I will always be under the spell, but I don't know how I'll work it into my life, if I'll keep pursuing it professionally, or just indulge in my own backyard.
The 'Gardener's Rehab' is around the corner, 5-6 months without digging into the earth, with lots of time to daydream.
blog and image Heather Grimes