June is my favorite time of
year and not just because it’s my birthday, or that school ends and I can get a
seat on the bus again. June in Southern
Alberta is when summer really begins.
This is when a person can go into a garden centre and forget everything
by getting lost in the scents and sights of plants and trees. Generally when I go shopping I like it to be
an in-and-out procedure but I have yet to make a mad dash for the door when I
enter a garden centre.
This year I purchased water
plants for the first time and I must admit that I have no idea what I am
doing. I anxiously ran out early this
morning to see if they survived the chill of last night but they looked fine,
although huddled together at one end of the pond. It will take some time to see them spread out
and the big question is do they overwinter?
The answer is yes, but with extreme care and attention to what each
variety likes.
Summertime has as many
challenges as winter but somehow I seem to be able to cope with them with a lot
more poise and sangfroid. Wet bottom
from sitting on the lawn tractor, no problem just change pants three times a
day; mosquito bites, no worries, dab a little nail polish remover on the bite;
heat stroke, no worries, crawl on hands and knees to kitchen, drink some water,
splash more on face and arms and then lie in bed until the sensation of a world
spinning recedes. Explain to colleagues
that you are a gardener and “please ignore all dirt under nails, they will be
clean again in September”. The
difference between a sun worshipper and a gardener is that the gardener’s tan
is uneven. We may be tanned from hands
up to mid arm, deep v at neck, ankles brown but knees white. But we are as blissful in the sun as the
worshipper but way more productive (we fondly believe).
A gardener can barely sit
still long enough to drink her coffee or tea before she spots at least 10
different areas in the garden that need her Immediate, I repeat, Immediate attention. If only she were a clone! This is when she eyes her Henriettas with an
impatient air, wondering when they will be old enough to come beyond the pen
and start on dandelion patrol. At the
end of a long summer day the gardener can sit still long enough to admire a
spot of colour somewhere in the jungle of green sprouting everywhere, give a
sigh of satisfaction and say, “after all, tomorrow is another day”.
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