Sunday, June 8, 2014

Sunshine, Summertime and Solace


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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