Today is a big day, this Monday, March 31, 2014. It marks Opening Day.
No, I kid. I like baseball, although some would argue that point with me considering I root for the Mets. Typical reply to that comment is “Really? Are the Mets still in baseball?” Yuk, yuk. Or the more direct, “Why aren’t you a Yankees fan? It’s so much easier!” I have a downtrodden team but I don’t care. I like the Mets for two reasons: my mom rooted for them and I have good memories of her watching the game by herself in the den on our tiny tv and going crazy with delight; and David Wright. In an era of overpaid and overblown sports icons and bratty behavior, David Wright is a class act and I like class acts.
But that’s not what I referring to in my title. It’s opening day for me. The day when I decide to open up the possibilities and plan a garden.
Reflect on that for a moment.
As we all remember, I despise summer and humidity and do my best to escape it with amazing resourcefulness. (“Yes, of course I’ll drive to the supermarket to pick up a bunch of things – it’s air-conditioned. Duh!” “No, I don’t want to come outside and look at the insert-something-that-Hubby-wants-me-to-see-close-up right now, I can see it from the window and it’s air-conditioned in here. Duh!”) But although I swore off gardening three years ago, I think I’m ready to
punish myself try it again because now I have time to be thoughtful about it.
The biggest problem with gardening, to me, is the ninja weed that sneaks in overnight and builds up a fort around your carefully tended growing things. I can go outside every day for two solid weeks and verify nothing unplanned is happening in my happy pile of dirt except what I put there, and foolishly think that maybe this time it’s going to work, and then BAM! The ninja weeds waited for my back to be turned and they set up shop. They’ve entwined their way about the cucumber trellis. They are choking out the peony. They are silently running underground (ninja submarines?) and cloning themselves to look like a new batch of lettuce when they’re really putting out feelers for new ways to kill my spirit.
Well, this year I have time to be more diligent and get out there when it’s cooler in the morning and take stock of what’s happening with the ground folk. I think I might actually be able to do it this year. I just might be successful at this and not end up with canoe-sized zucchinis and cucumbers that look like zeppelins.
I….I’m daring to open my heart again to a garden. Hold me.