Well, yes, I did dress up and go to dinner and movie last night with two of my friends. I wore a black flared skirt, sandals, a black camisole with a crimson loosely-knit tank over it. Now-mind you, I'm a jeans and T-shirt kind of gal. Dressing up is fun, but generally I feel conspicuous. That said, I polished my toenails and fingernails and applied eyeshadow and redder-than-usual lipstick, and topped it all off with a jean jacket. I have to admit, I like fashion, although I'm "well-put-together" according to my friends, I'm not fancy. I do like jewelry, but not expensive. I'm eclectic. So we went out and had sake and sushi and then went to the movie. Lots of gals dressed up. It was fun. And I thought the movie was good, not just Cinderella stuff.
But back to the garden—I was thinking how gardening and relationships are the same. You have to amend the soil of the relationship, and if you are my age—50s, you may be going through changes in your relationships you didn't ever see coming. I for one, am learning how to be my own woman. I am an artist as well as a gardener, and I do my life like gardening—start, stop, start, stop. How to be steady, I just haven't learned yet. How to get down on my knees and focus on a small area, I'm just so global. But with practice, good things come. Or at least, stuff gets done.
So yesterday, I emptied one bag of peat on half the garden. I started turning it in around the tomatoes and potatoes and where I've planted some beans. When I got to the patch of mint, I started digging out. It was strong, stronger than me—well at least physically. I kept at it though, and pulled out about half. Interesting how it grows along the roots, shooting up new stalks. I read a Jungian theory once—a marriage should be made up of two individuals, singularly being authentically real, connecting by the roots—like two big trees with connected roots. I like this idea. My soon-to-be-ex didn't want any connection with me. He wanted and wants to be making all the decisions, his way or the highway sort of guy. Well, how can I be eccentrically me and love someone who wants me to do and be what he says? He's a lonely man.
Lonely mint. All alone, broken and dying on the compost heap.
So I worked for an hour or so, digging and spreading peat. It was hot in the sun. Other gardeners came and went. One man said, sheez, you sure have a lot of weeds. They bring up nutrients from deep underground, I said. And see the worms. This is good, I'm feeling some pride. The soil is improving and so is my life.
Today, I'll work at it again. Garden and studio, and maybe my new friend will call me. He's been traveling and was supposed to be back yesterday. Huh! What should I wear? Should I buy some strappy heels?
But back to the garden—I was thinking how gardening and relationships are the same. You have to amend the soil of the relationship, and if you are my age—50s, you may be going through changes in your relationships you didn't ever see coming. I for one, am learning how to be my own woman. I am an artist as well as a gardener, and I do my life like gardening—start, stop, start, stop. How to be steady, I just haven't learned yet. How to get down on my knees and focus on a small area, I'm just so global. But with practice, good things come. Or at least, stuff gets done.
So yesterday, I emptied one bag of peat on half the garden. I started turning it in around the tomatoes and potatoes and where I've planted some beans. When I got to the patch of mint, I started digging out. It was strong, stronger than me—well at least physically. I kept at it though, and pulled out about half. Interesting how it grows along the roots, shooting up new stalks. I read a Jungian theory once—a marriage should be made up of two individuals, singularly being authentically real, connecting by the roots—like two big trees with connected roots. I like this idea. My soon-to-be-ex didn't want any connection with me. He wanted and wants to be making all the decisions, his way or the highway sort of guy. Well, how can I be eccentrically me and love someone who wants me to do and be what he says? He's a lonely man.
Lonely mint. All alone, broken and dying on the compost heap.
So I worked for an hour or so, digging and spreading peat. It was hot in the sun. Other gardeners came and went. One man said, sheez, you sure have a lot of weeds. They bring up nutrients from deep underground, I said. And see the worms. This is good, I'm feeling some pride. The soil is improving and so is my life.
Today, I'll work at it again. Garden and studio, and maybe my new friend will call me. He's been traveling and was supposed to be back yesterday. Huh! What should I wear? Should I buy some strappy heels?
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1 comment:
I'm a very start-stop kind of person too. I'm either doing things gung-ho or not at all. I keep working on balance in life, but that is so hard.
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