Gardening

I spent a while yesterday and then some, today, too, cleaning up the thyme garden.

I did wonder, when rain was falling, more days than not, if it would be too much water on the herbs. But, there wasn’t really anything I could do. The water always dried up, or soaked in, in a day or so. But, then, rain would fall again.

And now, I’m not sure that too much rain might have harmed the thyme, or maybe this is just what a thyme plant’s life cycle looks like. Possibly, they’ll just hunker down during the winter and bounce back to life next spring. Some of the plants completely died over the summer. Others are making a small comeback. I’ve replaced a couple. The three better-looking plants at the front are three different varieties that I found at the end of last fall. They’ve thrived through the winter, spring, and summer. The big green mass at the far right is Creeping Mother of Thyme. I’ve had it for years, and it has grown and spread and been dependable.

I’ve grown different kinds of mint for quite a while. I don’t cook very much with them, I just like the way they look and smell. One hot, hot day, last summer, I came home from church, walked through the patio, and went in the house. I didn’t think about watering the patio plants. (And I always water the patio plants.) Then the next day, when I went back out, the lovely curled mint and chocolate mint plants were dead, dead, dead. As was the pineapple mint plant on the shelf beneath them. I was horrified and really sad. The curly and chocolate mints were new to me, and the pineapple mint was a plant I’d had for years. I poured water on the hard, dry dirt and grieved. Then, about two weeks later, TA-DAH!! Really! a couple of tiny leaves were coming up. When I bought and potted the plants, the chocolate mint was on one side and the curly mint was on the other. Apparently, they have different root systems. The curly mint is now all around the edges of the pot, and the chocolate mint is in the center. I don’t care; I’m just glad they showed up again.

I was going to take a bit of a break, and went to the patio to sit on the bench there. It’s where I’ve been sitting to read in the late afternoons. I lean back on the pillows, balance a glass of tea on the arm rest, and enjoy a book. When I went to rest for a moment this afternoon, I couldn’t. We’d had a short, but significant, rainfall, mid-morning. I touched a cushion. It seemed all right. I pressed down, and, no, it wasn’t all right. The sun had warmed, and dried, the cushion tops, but quite a bit of rainwater had settled in the bottom of the cushions, and also to the bench. So I ended up on the concrete steps.

And, when I was out in the garden, I had the same idea. I could sit down for a moment. Nope. These cushions were really wet. Top to bottom. And, there was water on the bench’s slats.

No rest for weary me. I didn’t want to traipse up the yard just to have a seat on the concrete steps. Not all that comfortable. So, I picked up the rake and went to gather up fallen leaves.

What beautiful tents, Jacob, oh, your homes, Israel!
Like valleys stretching out in the distance, like gardens planted by rivers,
Like sweet herbs planted by the gardener God, like red cedars by pools and springs,

A garden is always a series of losses set against a few triumphs, like life itself. – May Sarton (2014). “At Seventy: A Journal”, p.53, Open Road Media

As long as I can put on my overalls and my Crocs . . .