We’ve had a much too late spring in Maine, the landlord cut down a dead tree and left a disaster of chaos, and I saw no way to move ahead with soil, seeds, and planting given the budget.
I saw my dream of my most glorious garden yet disappearing.
But then like dominos falling, one by one, things started coming together. My landlord came out, hauled the wood, cleaned the loam pile for me, and he then used the tiller to make a nice big mound of usable soil.
No delivery required.
Friends delivered a flat of pansies that they weren’t going to use. Though I’ve never been a pansy fan, the molted, variegated colors work as painterly splashes to my entry.
They look lovely, inviting, cheery — glad singing color.
Bags and beds are filled and fed with compost tea. Garden Tower has been uncovered, cleaned, and compost prepped. Seeding has started. Crabgrass has been removed from around the beds (most of it, this is a Herculean project that needs several days, muscle, and grit).
Tomorrow I walk down the road and purchase my first batch of plants; hopefully, the plant guy will have plenty to get me started.
Lettuces, herbs, flowers, veggies.
This year, though, I’ve seeded a massive amount of mixed wildflowers.
I’’m feeding our pollinators.
The wild bergamot photo came up in my Facebook feed this morning.
This was one of the first plants I cared for as I discovered the gardening art, from my first year of watching things grow.
Funny that it came up, because it was taken in July. Not how those Facebook memories work, but there it was to greet me.
Not a bad picture for my pre-iPhone days.
Every year the growing (and photos) gets more voluptuous; every year I grow with my garden in ways I never would have dreamed.
Today I’m exhausted the way that one ought to be when we work and watch life lead us — in this case, gardening.
I’m exhausted, But here is this week’s entry: a testament to how things come together when we least expect it, that we can accomplish more than we believe, and a reminder of how Life takes care of things in unexpected ways.
I hadn’t a clue how to make this week’s entry work given my level of physical and mental exhaustion.
But here I am, and here is the entry.
And this sweet little bee balm plant reminds me of how far I’ve come, and how beautiful has been the journey.