Garden Addict

I’ve been consumed, swallowed whole, by my garden and I couldn’t be happier. I think about it constantly. At night, I have trouble clearing planting plans from my mind so that I can sleep. There is always dirt under my nails and ground into my cuticles. My hands are rough and catch on my clothing. Everything hurts, my arms, my back, my butt, but I don’t mind. If I could have my way, I’d spend all my time digging in the dirt.

This is my typical day: I spend eight dreary hours at work, staring longingly out the window and haunting the GardenWeb forums. As I ride the bus home, my anticipation builds. I shovel dinner down my throat and, sometimes, politely wait for Mike to finish. Then I throw on my grubby clothes and rush outside with my gardening cat, Cleo. I dig, weed, chop, plant, water, and generally fuss about until darkness forces Cleo and me inside. I change into my pajamas and spend an hour writing in my garden journal, perusing my Ohio gardening book, or tending to houseplants before I go to bed. I dream gardening dreams.

Imagine my disappointment when it SNOWED this weekend. My routine was completely disrupted. I had to ease my cabin fever with endless gazing at the tender seedlings I had brought inside and the exploration of a new greenhouse. By late Sunday afternoon, the snow was gone, but the temperatures were still low. However, the moment the sun peeked out, I was outside again, engaging in the warming activity of yew destruction (#3).

I’m an addict; I’ll do anything for a fix. I’ve already learned not to go into a greenhouse unless I’m prepared to buy something. I have no will power. Mike has graciously forgiven me for spending large amounts of our tax refund on the yard. My justification: it makes me happy!

I have made significant progress since I began work on the foundation plantings. The raised beds around the ends of the front porch are completed and planted with climbing hydrangea and dooryard violets. To the right of the front door, the dead yew has been removed and the horehound from half the bed has been torn out. Last night, I installed a birdbath in the yew’s place. I have three lady in red ferns, a purple palace coral bells (heuchera), a bleeding heart, a shooting star, and ten lily of the valley pips waiting to be planted around the bath. I’m sprouting an elephant ear bulb inside to plant in this shady area by early summer (it is a tropical bulb that needs to be stored indoors for the winter). To the left of the front door, Mike and I ripped out one yew and are busy on the second. I discovered gladiolas emerging from the ground near the second yew. In order to save them from destruction, I dug up the bulbs and have temporarily stored them in the garage. The progress is slow and the work is hard, but it is a labor of love.

Cocooned in my garden obsession, I haven’t even bugged Mike to go shopping for the digital camera he promised me. We are in for some rainy weather this week (but no snow!), so I may be able to tear myself away from the lovely dirt and finally purchase the camera. Then I can share the destruction, the construction, and the joy with you.