Blue Boots

Almost three weeks since I last wrote.  What's up with that?  I am finding it incredibly difficult to fulfill my vision of gardening and writing everyday.  Perhaps it's because it is 95 degrees out there.  When I wait until it cools off a bit in the evening, I get eaten alive by the pests that are waiting to devour my exposed ankles!

Mostly I am tired.  I'll admit it - uninspired.  Our property takes so much effort just to maintain that I get worn out doing the mundane - like mowing (we now have three broken mowers, two of which are in the shop.)  I was out there enthusiastically giving our unruly yard a haircut when I hit a rock and stopped the whole deal - bent the frame on the mower and did some kind of damage to the engine.  And that was our really good mower that we brought over from the studio.  The bamboo that David and I have worked so hard to clear is back, but at least it covers up the piles of bamboo roots that I still hadn't gotten rid of.  Still it's disheartening and makes me come down with a bad case of "why bother".  I'll just let the bamboo win for awhile.

What we need is a back yard make-over like you see on HGTV where they come in with heavy machinery, scoop the whole thing out and bring us a few tons of fresh dirt.  The problem is that they always preface those shows with a woman's cheery voice saying "The Gages had a budget of $30,000 to work with for their backyard makeover."  Hmmm..."The Gages have a good friend, some blue rubber boots from Target and a nice new edger to transform their backyard" - thus the "why bother" attitude.

I bother because I am thrilled when I pop a cherry tomato in my mouth from one of our plants; I'm tickled to run out to the garden and pinch off a bit of basil for our pasta sauce; I'm proud that the plants I put in a month ago seem to be thriving and taking to their new home; I love to see butterflies swarming around my perennials.  

I'm trying to learn to appreciate the small victories and the simpler pleasures - both in the garden and in my life.  When I feel overrun by the big bad bamboo, I turn my eyes to a quieter corner, untouched by its relentless aggression.  With a little effort I can almost forget that it's there.