Garden thoughts

Sometimes I think it is my garden that keeps me sane. I know it is helping to keep me healthy–never have I been outside in the beauty and freshness of nature so much, all the walking, bending, enjoying the bird sounds and talking to my plants.  One of the really nice things about plants is that they don’t talk backšŸ˜‡. And, of course, eating fresh veggies without pesticides or other junk on them.

But when life, the world, people get to me, make me want to run away–I have the wonderful opportunity to walk out the back door to my garden. When I am in the garden it is just the plants and me–and an occasional bug, which I will probably kill, and the birds, which I love to listen to, as long as they are not in my plants pecking on them.  I talk to my tomatoes as I prune them–cutting off excess branches, bugs and whatever, waiting for their fruit. I sweat and struggle to make the best garden I can–and I forget that there is anything beyond the garden. I am totally immersed.  I am alone with the garden. It is heaven. Funny I used to think heaven was a place where you did no work, but now I think it is a place where you are immersed in your work, one with the job.

Now, so far into this blog that no one will ever see it. I need to say that I really hate caregiving. I know that is a terrible thing to say, to think, to feel. But it is true. I always knew that I was not cut out for one on one caring–that’s why I was always in administration, I care but don’t want to do it. But now I have to, every morning it is my wake up call and every evening my bedtime routine.  And I hate it. I know it is unChristian of me. I don’t like me when I feel this way, but still I hate it.

I praise God for my garden–without it I would be lost in the mire of my feelings. When I am in the garden, I forget there is a world outside the garden and I am saved from my feelings. Is that wrong? I don’t know, I am just thankful for my garden.

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