“Everything that forces us to slow down and forces patience, everything that sets us back into the slow circles of nature, is a help. Gardening is an instrument of grace.”
- May Sarton
Spring has arrived with a sweet vengeance, bringing us both extremes: soft rains pouring from the heavens, and brilliant blue days warm enough for the poor souls to stop shivering in their shorts and flip-flops (and believe me, they’ve been trying around here for a month. I’ve watched them from within the warmth of my house and three layers of clothes).
Now that we’ve all recovered from the splendour of the magnolia, it all points to container gardening, another of my favourite pastimes. I’ve carted out most of the houseplants, and plan to fluff up their roots and treat them to some fresh soil. As usual, they’ll double in size from their time at summer camp out back, and come fall I’ll wonder where to put them all, or perhaps rent an extra house for them.
I’ve scrubbed last year’s green stuff from the flower pots, mixed up some new potting soil with the old, and crammed some fantastic pansies into a tub – white and orange so-called “citrus mix” combined with purple. Into the smaller pots will go impatiens, two shades of pink, and the leftover pansies, and I’ve splurged on three fat, juicy geraniums which are now stuffed into the Master Pot outside the window. Fantastic. It can rain all it likes for the next few days.
All that remains is a brilliant begonia, and I’m set for flowers.
Equally engrossing and rewarding, if not moreso: I’m editing! It’s my idea of heaven to read over a chapter of my novella, and then put it down and think about it while staring out the window at the geraniums twitching in the breeze. What a treat to have dirt under my nails and the garden flowering during this final stage of writing my first book.