A sticky trickle of sweat drips down my brow stinging my eyes
and I feel the heat of the sun burning my legs and back, right here
in my own Garden of Eden. My shoulders are criss-crossed with
uneven tan lines and newly pink skin.
A sticky trickle of sweat drips down my brow stinging my eyes and I feel the heat of the sun burning my legs and back, right here in my own Garden of Eden. My shoulders are criss-crossed with uneven tan lines and newly pink skin. It seems as if I’ve unearthed an ant hill beneath the roots of every weed I pluck and they scamper in confusion carrying their precious cargos. The mud dries quickly on my fingers in this heat. I wipe the perspiration from my forehead with the semi-clean spot on the back of my hand and stand up straight stretching my aching back and legs, squint at the sun and take a cool drink from the hose. I drop it to the ground and with an annoying glance I notice the newly exposed gopher hole widening under the flow and I know I’ll never win that battle.
In spite of the heat, bugs and subterranean rodents, I love gardening. There are several very gratifying moments when you plant from seed. There is of course the satisfaction and wonder of a single pea growing a vine that then produces hundreds more (with tasty edible pods) and believe me they never make it in the house. Snap peas are sacrificial treats born to be snacks while I pull weeds and admire the other plants.
It’s also pretty great when you see sad wilted leaves spring back to life with a good drink of water, and the “wow” moment when your plants become taller than you is a milestone too.
But there is a grander moment that occurs before the peas are ripe and hollyhocks are towering in full bloom. It’s my favorite thing. Every morning I walk out to my little greenhouse to see if anything has sprouted. I grow a variety of things, flowers, vegetables and herbs. It doesn’t matter what it is, when I see that little hill where the soil was once flat and the tiniest hint of something green pushing it up… I feel pure satisfaction. Joy. Success. It’s the simplest thing, a little dirt, a little water and in a few days, signs of maturing life!
I literally trek out there every morning, every day of the year… and look. I look and I wait and I water. This is where I do all of my thinking. It’s my alone time. Nobody is asking me questions and I can’t hear the phone ringing this far from the house. The dogs keep me company. They nap or watch with little interest from the shade, occasionally lifting their lazy heads as a bird dares to come too close or to snap at a fly.
I think the heart of this hobby is my need to balance an over scheduled calendar and a multi-tasking household with something utterly simple. It keeps me on an even keel. By the end of the week, I’m well balanced and my yard looks great. From a dogs eye view, with the ground up close, I think about how things grow. I wonder why a weed is eager to grow and yet is unwanted. I ask myself why the plants I want to grow are resistant and require so much nurturing, like children.
I think about my kids. One by one, I think about how they looked the last time I saw them. Did they look healthy? Were their eyes bright and clear? Did they tell me all the details I needed to know for their next outing or club meeting? What was the last thing they ate? Does anyone need a haircut? Are they happy? I review each of them in my mind from head to toe as I water, trim and extract, and I reflect on what they were wearing, how well they groomed themselves and who forgot their chores. I search the images of their faces for signs of growth, like those little hills I seek each morning. I watch their young minds expand and note that two out of three are taller than me. I make mental notes as I stuff a plug of mud in the gopher hole and decide who needs one on one attention the most and add it to my list of things to do today. I turn the faucet off with three or four squeaky twists, retreat to the shade of the willow tree and acknowledge a job well done with a cool glass of water. This is my life in my Garden of Eden.
Lydia Eden-Irwin was raised in Gilroy. She has three children as part of a blended family. Her column is published each Wednesday. She can be reached at
ed*****@ao*.com
.
