Gardening

Unfurling…

It is supposed to rain this weekend, but so far it's just cloudy.  So I spent some time outside whacking dirt off of the sod I ripped up out of the front yard when I first started this garden.  There's a lot of dirt in that thar sod pile, so rather than buy more, I'll harvest this.  The grass and roots and grubs go into yard debris bags, the dirt and earthworms (LOTS of earthworms) go into a wheelbarrow, and when there's a good amount of dirt and so forth, that gets wheeled to the front yard and dumped into the garden.

Not that it's a garden yet.  It's still a blob-shaped area of dirt with a tired little boat half sunk into one "corner" of it.  But that's okay. 

There is no rush.

That's the conclusion I came to while I was whacking dirt out of grass roots.  There is no rush.  There is no deadline.  I don't have to get this garden finished before the buzzer sounds.  It is a work in progress.  And that's the peaceful part of it.  I am not in a hurry to reach the end.  I don't care if I'm still working on it in September.  Who knows – at the rate I'm going, I might be.

There is no rush.

My husband is deadline-oriented.  He wants the garden done.  Ever since he finished digging that hole and put the boat in for me, I think he has started thinking of the garden slightly in terms of "we" instead of "Jayne's project, thanks for your help, now BACK OFF!"  (Which is kind of what I told him the other morning when he was listing all the current things he's stressed about.  End of school-year concerts and festivals for his chorus kids…the frustration of learning how to put contact lenses in (and I'm not going to go into THAT story right now at all.)…and "we need to get that garden done…" – WE?  Back off, mister, you can't include that on your list of stress – it's my project, not yours.)

So anyway.  I'm deadline-oriented too, sort of.  Or, rather, I'm rushed a lot of the time.  Weekday mornings are an Olympic sport – or should be.  And my lunch breaks, most of the time, are either spent at home doing dishes that didn't get done before or prepping something for dinner…or running errands or picking up groceries or diapers or something somewhere….and then after work there's the whole get-the-kids-and-get-dinner-ready obstacle course – the obstacles being two children who are perfectly fine all day but once Mommy is back in the picture it's time to voice objections and yell or scream and cling and demand juice or formula and need a diaper changed and have to go potty….which is fine – it's just a little chaotic at times.

And weekends have been, primarily, the time to do all the laundry, grocery shopping, and basically get ready for Monday.  And maybe watch a ball game on TV at some point…while folding clothes. 

But now I am getting time to work in this garden-to-be.  And the sections of my brain that I use to multi-task at home and at work all week are not required.  I work on one single lone task at a time.  And today that task was whacking dirt.  And my brain, not needed, just kind of relaxed.  It just went mostly blank, with little whispy bits of thoughts drifting through like little puffy white clouds…and they did not linger.  Whack.  Whack.  Whack.  That's all.  Me and dirt and debris and worms and grubs and rocks.  Steady, deliberate, easy work. 

It's like meditation, only while still doing something.  Time disappears.  I love that.  It used to happen when I did a lot of cake decorating…it also happens when I quilt, though I haven't done that in ages.  But maybe this fall I will start up again, once the gardening season is winding down.  That will be my colder weather project – with no deadline either.

I have a bunch more dirt to whack…and then I'll add a little lime to the soil and rake it all over that blob-shaped spot…build up the dirt around the back of the boat…fill in the boat some more…and then I can put in the plants. 

But there is no rush.

I do not have to have the garden finished by, say, Memorial Day. 

Because then what?  If it's all done, and all I have to do is monitor it and make sure all the little plants are okay…then what?  I'll need a new project.  And I don't want one.  I like this one just fine.  I like seeing the project unfold slowly. 

It is a work in progress.  There is no rush.

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