I can think of no better way to spend a sunny Saturday in June than in the garden.
I’m actually a fraud where my garden is concerned. People tell me how beautiful my yard is all the time; we’ve even participated in a garden tour. But I always have to explain that the real gardener is a talented landscape artist named Claudia who comes to my house twice a year and does all of the hard work, for which she is paid very well. I can’t legitimately call myself a gardener when all I do is make sure nothing dies between Claudia’s visits. So I’m more like the maintenance guy.
But still, maintaining my garden is one of my great joys. I love to prune, pick and pinch, and I like to say hello to all of the blossoms making their first appearance of the season. “Hi yarrow! Haven’t seen you since September! Look, it’s Obelia! And Hydrangea! Rose, sweetie! It’s been forever!”
My garden clearly doesn’t mind these silly rantings because every year the blossoms come back to hear them.
I don’t have a lot of time, so there’s not much exotic in my garden; pretty much the same stuff you’ll find in anyone’s garden. I do have a pond with a waterfall, which I adore.
I think everyone can benefit from tending nature just a bit. Even if it’s just a potted geranium on the window sill. The sense that one can coax life out of a dirt and water is tremendous.
