WHY GARDEN IF IT IS SO DIFFICULT?
Well, mostly because you love your garden!
But it also does wonderful things for your mental state, your physical state and even your emotional state! Why else would we have been doing it all these years? We truly love to get our hands and jeans dirty. Dirt under the fingernails tells the world we are gardeners, and of that, we're proud! I can remember my mother wore red nail polish, not to look sexy, but to cover the dirt that hid under those nails. The dirt that refused to wash, or be scrubbed out. Garden dirt is tough to remove!
How wonderful it is to have perfect strangers walk up to you when you're out there on your knees and tell you how great that garden looks. They love to see it every time they pass by. In fact, many people choose to walk that way BECAUSE of your garden. That's a genuine HIGH! Along those same lines, how many folks have you gotten to know because of your garden? It's like little children and puppy dogs... everyone stops to admire them. It's a reason to get to know new people and connect with your neighbors.
Even when we were younger and able to garden easily, we came inside and ached with sore muscles. We expected that, it kind of came with the territory. Unlike now (at our "advanced" age) it didn't create limits, it just made us stiff for a few hours. At any rate, that tells you that when we garden we are actually exercising! It's GOOD for us. As long as we know our limitations and stop before we get SORE, or begin to really hurt, we're working those muscles and it's good for us!
posted by North Country Maturing Gardener @ 12/04/2005
5 comments
5 Comments:
I have never been able to bring myself to use gloves because they get in the way of the feel of the soil. There's something magical about the feel of garden soil, something that can't be described. I suspect that people are born to it, that it's in the blood, like the love of bagpipe music or licorice. Some have it and some don't :)
Ah, yes! It IS in the blood!
You have described me to a T. I continue to garden even when my arthritic knees register every step I take, and I can neither squat nor kneel these days, so it's a case of doing a lot of bending over to weed, plant, etc.
I also have a never-ending battle with gloves. They limit the movement of my fingers and I can't feel the plants and soil as I like to, but they do protect me from spiders and thorns, and offer some protection from sharp secateurs. I'm an absolute demon for cutting my fingers.
My husband is also retired and very much into gardening. Our absolute passion is propogation of plants - Richard likes to grow trees, shrubs (or anything) from seed whilst I like to strike cuttings and divisions. The fact that we have no idea what to do with all the stuff we propogate is a mere detail.
We have a flowerbed right along the front footpath (sidewalk) and I've met ever so many people whilst working in that garden. Some have become good friends and we swap plants, etc. Even children and teenagers will stop and have a chat.
It's more than just the digging and the feel of the dirt, though. I am an archaeologist, so I get plenty of that at work, at least in the summer. Since moving to Barrow, AK, I have to say I've done most of my gardening in gloves (although certainly not all).
I think it's the growing and the imagining what you would like to see and then trying to make that come true, despite whatever is in the way. I've grown flowers since I was a kid, and just couldn't give it up, even though my garden is definitely the farthest north on the continent by at least 60 miles (and those are mostly tomatoes inland in cold frames). Gardening in Barrow is different, and more challenging than in upstate NY or Philadelphia, where I used to garden. Some think I'm mad, but I just like to have a garden.
NO GARDENER IS MAD! We are just optimists of a whole different order! Keep up the good work. I surely hope you can garden until the ripe old age of 100 or so! It's really tough when the old "bod" just won't let you do what you'd like. I hope it never happens to you!
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