Monday, May 21, 2012

Gardening in Moderation

I returned home at noon from my 4th chiropractic visit in two weeks.
It has always been frustrating to me that while my back--or shoulder--or ribcage--can 'go out'--it can't 'go back in' short of coercion by a professional.
"So, what have y'all been doing?" asks Dr K. as she bustles into the consulting room.
"Err, more gardening," I admit sheepishly.
Dr. K. presses a button, a motor hums and I am tilted flat on her table, face buried in the
paper-swathed headrest. 
"Is this the onset of old age?" I ask, as Dr. K. prods at my shoulder. "Do I have to stop gardening?"
[I am feeling just a bit sorry for myself, here!]
She snorts inelegantly.
"You're not that old and I almost never tell people to quit doin' stuff they like to do.
I don't know how anybody could set around doin' nothin!'
[Dr. K. like many college-educated people here continues to talk in the local vernacular.]
My shoulder obligingly crunches into place under pressure.
"Oh good," says Dr. K. and levers me upright.
She regales me with the encouraging story of a patient in her 80's who gardens crawling on her hands and knees.  "She is just the happiest woman, comes in here for an adjustment, tells me what-all she's got growing in her garden."
We speak briefly of the problems associated with fibromyalgia. Dr. K. admits that I might be old enough to experience a 'touch of arthritis.'
Tucking her clipboard under one arm, she delivers her exit line; "You're no way needin' to quit gardening---but you might could try to do it in moderation!'
Leaving my car in the doctor's parking lot, I walk up to the Courthouse Square to the bank.
I catch sight of myself in a plate glass window--always a bit disconcerting.
I see a woman who is obviously not young--labeling her 'middle-aged' might even be s stretch. Greying hair which swings in a braid over my left shoulder--blue denim capris, sun-browned bare legs, feet in sandals, fingernails which in spite of repeated scrubbing wear the green/brown stains of plants and garden soil.
I ponder this idea of 'moderation.'
It has begun to dawn on me this spring that it is not so much what I do, but the fact that once in the gardens I don't stop weeding, transplanting, digging, hauling dirt, until I am forced inside by J.'s need for a meal--or by nightfall, when I suddenly realize that I have my face 6 inches from the earth trying to discern just a few more weeds as darkness creeps across the landscape.


I attempted moderation this afternoon.
I made our lunch, tended a load of laundry, answered emails.
I watered the 4 pots of daylilies which I had brought home from Wal Mart--reduced price and in need of urgent release from their black plastic nursery pots.
"Tomorrow," I told myself firmly.  "Tomorrow will be time enough to plant them."
After a bit I wandered outside.
I admired the poppies in the upper perennial strip--so lovely, and their season so soon to be past.
I remembered that I intended to move 2 Stargazer lilies from in front of the porch to join the 'tree lilies' in the border.  Surely that was a moderate sort of task.
I looked at the place designated for the bargin Stella D'Oro lilies--the area near the front steps where G. and I worked last week.
A clump of flopping over-grown sedum needed to be removed to make way for the lilies.
I found J.'s big shovel and began to pry up the clump of sedum.
The dirt along the edge of the porch is inhospitable, coarse. I broke the sedum into 3 parts, heaved the plants out onto the sidewalk.
Feeling virtuous, I took a 5 minute break.
I spread a layer of packaged garden soil over the disrupted ground, gently dragged around a half bale of peat moss.  I stirred and turned, creating a nice climate for the lilies.  They were pot-bound, poor things, so I carefully teased apart their tangled roots, tucked them in place.
I hauled off my debris, swept the porch, said nice things to my rosemary seedlings, shooed Sally and Sadie out of the freshly dug-over patch.

I went inside to scrub my paws, scooped out a helping of ice cream and went back to the porch.
Dusk crept in with the whip-poor-wills tuning up across the creek.
Bobwhites called, the mockingbird mocked and the bluebirds swished through the twilight intent on capturing a bedtime snack for their young.
I trust I accomplished a moderate amount of gardening.
I don't promise I can consistently apply 'moderation'--the season carries me along.

One of the self-sown poppies--a beautiful color.

Willis has no trouble with the concept of moderation--he indulges in fits of activity alternating with languid sprawls.

Two of my favorite achillia are in bloom.

The first magnolia opened yesterday--this one on a lower branch is today's offering--waxy
white and fragrant.

This shrub, whose name I don't know, fills the air with its scent--sharp, pervasive, rather than sweet.
[I want to call it fothergilla aka witch alder--but I have my doubts.]

The newly planted area by the steps.  I may bring home yet another pot of Stella.

A clump of Stella D'Oro lillies planted last season, already spreading comfortably.
These lilies have become an urban cliche--almost ubiquitous in landscaping of public places.
Common they may be, but also readily available, economical, cheerful and sturdy--a good choice for a moderate gardener!

10 comments:

  1. Those yellow lilies are in a lot of places around our town. Now if I were to have to do something in moderation, I'd do it by the clock I'd give myself a moderate amount of time and when the time was up, the clock would tell me and I'd stop. I think being a teacher all my life means I do everything by the clock. When the bell rings I stop one thing and start another.

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  2. Lovely new header featuring Pebbles! You've done very well in attempting moderation. Maybe the key is to plan short bursts of activities, bookended by more easygoing pursuits, and somehow a little of everything gets done. But...but...I want to do it all NOW! That is the sticking point, isn't it? Like the old cliche says - old age is not for sissies! But our tired bodies are so inclined to sissiness!

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  3. Oh, my, did that ever sound familiar! I have a kindly chiropractor who never seems surprised to see me. Dr. Shull says, "Hi, Becky, what did you do now?" I'm afraid gardening is my downfall too and I never learn! We gardeners are a breed of our own and we do enjoy our malady don't we? :0

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  4. Seeing the beautiful results of all your work must give you a reason to keep going, in spite of aches and pains. So beautiful.
    Lillian
    lillianscupboard.wordpress.com

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  5. I'm all for taking Dr Willis' prescription

    " fits of activity alternating with languid sprawls."

    :-D

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  6. I feel your pain! There is no way to garden in moderation that I know of.

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  7. Famous last words, MM. They don't usually work for a contented gardener.
    I hear the same, and like I told the doc the last time, I depend on my garden to feed me, I can't "quit", unless he wants to open up his checkbook and find me a cabana boy to help in my garden and housework! (chuckle):}
    Its hard, but we all just do it. Some days more than others.
    Have a wonderful week, and don't over do it...

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  8. Gardening and moderation are two things that don't go together. Best of luck with that!

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  9. Ah, the "M" word. I don't do it either. All or nothing for me and I creak to my bed afterwards. But hey ho, in winter we can't garden and then things seize up anyway!

    Your garden is looking beautiful.

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  10. I've learned to garden in moderation as a few years ago I learned the hard way that if I overdo it early in the season I can end up not being able to garden at all! I go once a month to my osteopath for 'maintenance' and this keeps my dodgy back (result of a fall in my early 30s!) working pretty well so long as I don't get too carried away. A couple of hours a day pretty much gets done what needs to be done. Willis has the right idea:)

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