I don’t care what anybody says, summer is still three weeks from
being over. There’s plenty of time to sip and savor. Sunsets to
watch, fruits and vegetables to pick and eat fresh, siestas to take
in the hammock, barefoot morning strolls around the dew-drenched
garden, al fresco meals to be had … summer is a state of mind.
Having recently returned from a trip overseas, I did go through a
bout of whipping the garden into some order. Nothing drastic. Just to
have it look sufficiently fetching and looked after. Apart from the
ongoing tasks of weeding and watering, this is the window to loll
about before the fall frenzy begins.
While others are in the back-to-school mode and getting their own
schedules and agendas in order, I take this opportunity to extend my
summer bliss. There are still books to be read and friends to catch
Certainly, the signs of fall are there. The sun sets earlier, leaves
are slowly turning, apples are beginning to blush and there is that
barest hint of cooler days approaching. All of that notwithstanding,
I see the turtleheads coming into full bloom, the Joe Pyes are abuzz
and aflutter with pollinators, the phlox is saturating the garden in
perfume, the cardinal flowers are beacons for hummingbirds and there
are yet tomatoes ripening on the vine for summer salads and
For now, I leave you with my stubborn hold on summer –
The weather this past weekend was nothing short of stellar. It could
not be beat. Bright and sparkly, low humidity, temperatures in the
low 70’s. After two weeks in rain soaked Mumbai, this was quite
literally a breath of fresh air. What an amazing homecoming.
Taking advantage of this gift, I visited Stonecrop Gardens in Cold Spring, NY on Saturday. If you’ve never been, you must. It was Frank Cabot’s home – yes, the man who helped found the Garden Conservancy. You can read all about this garden on their website. It’s quite a gem.
Summer’s end is not typically the best time to visit most gardens.
But I was in need of it. Inspiration is always to be found and I was
not disappointed. Big splashes of summer color and a seasonal
untidiness abounded. I loved the fullness of the plantings
everywhere. The realities of the season made apparent by burgeoning
seed-heads, flamboyant flowers, plants jostling for space in their
beds and a certain wildness to it all. This was Life at full
throttle. In contrast, the verdant quietude found in the wisteria
pavilion by the pond provided that pause to breathe deeply and free
the mind from quotidian worries.
In walking around, I realized that the high point for me, was the
general end-of-season mess and the sight of the ravaged leaves of
kale and other plants. Critter(s) had gone to town and riddled the
leaves so they looked like badly made lace antimacassars. I found
that very comforting because it made me feel like my own garden was
in good company. This is the reality. If you’re using organic
methods, one cannot have a pristine, near perfect, neat and tidy
garden at the close of the summer. Given the strange spring and
summer we have had, it’s been particularly difficult to manage the
garden as one has in years past. Weather fluctuations have been so
erratic that my expectations were lowered sufficiently to protect my
ego from too much injury.
By observing how lovely Stonecrop looked despite everything made me
see my own garden with kinder eyes and appreciation.
Energized by that visit, on Sunday, I whipped the garden into better
shape. A little cosmetic fiddling goes a long way. Weeding,
deadheading, pruning and a general tidying up did wonders. I revamped
the window-boxes and other urns and pots with a bit of tropical flair
that I can only explain as the influence of my recent sojourn to
India. Traveling has that impact doesn’t it?
And now, I’m set to enjoy the remaining weeks of summer with renewed enthusiasm. Salut!
is in the news quite a bit these days.
Too little or none at all. Too much, too soon is just as bad.
Certainly this is predicted to be the biggest, most critical problem
we will have to resolve in
the not too distant future.
Water will direct the next mass migrations of humans as they are
forced to adapt to the changing weather patterns – a result of both
natural and man-made acts. As a global community we will have to
decide right now how we will deal with shifting populations/refugees,
how we grow our food, utilize energy, reprogram our use of
water and indeed our entire way of living. While government agencies
and related organizations grapple with the big picture, if one has
not personally begun taking steps towards this impending crisis, it
is now time to start.
As of this minute. I’m not being an alarmist – the snooze button
to that alarm has been hit way too often already.
writing this during
a ten day stay in monsoon swamped Mumbai. It is wet, warm and muggy.
The air feels spongy even when it isn’t raining. The dampness
Without air-conditioning to lower the humidity, I’d be hard pressed
to be comfortable and sleep would be impossible. This has been a
particularly heavy monsoon season.
Despite so much rain, the city is still aware of the undependable nature of its water supply. It has signs all over asking her citizens to conserve, avoid waste and respect this life giving Adam’s Ale. And that got me wondering if those signs have any real impact on the mass. Does one read and/or pay attention to such ‘nudges’? As one drives through the generally thick traffic, is the mind even open to receiving any such advice? It then occurred to me that it was because of the stop and start, slow moving, thick traffic snaking along that I was able to notice the signs and ponder them. A seed, so to speak, had been sown. I can only imagine that a daily dose of ‘Don’t Waste Water’, ‘No Water, No Life’ will percolate into one’s conscience and guide the mind to the judicious use of water. Not a bad idea to have those signs put up after all. They certainly cannot hurt.
my own garden back home, I’ve long collected rainwater to water
parts of the garden. Particularly pots. To ensure that the plants do
not get parched when we’re away or otherwise distracted, we have
also rigged up a drip-system to routinely water the pots as some of
the plants require a consistent supply. The mechanism is attached to
a moisture sensor so that it will not release water if it has rained
or is raining. That
way, no water is unduly wasted.
from cooking eggs, boiling vegetables etc is also collected for
watering. Often the boiling hot water is poured directly
the weeds trying to make their way through brick or flagstone paths.
Kills the weeds
in a particularly dry period when rain is scarce, there are areas in
the garden that need a healthy
splash. Thus far, it’s been okay but I worry that the time when
watering our gardens whenever we see a need is coming to a close.
There will be a need to shift to plants that do better in semi-dry or
arid conditions. Fussy plants will have to be phased out.
sad. But, we gardeners are a resilient species. We will adapt.
Indeed, we can lead the way. I for one have resolved to source
plants that do well under dry conditions and start introducing them
into the garden. The process will be deliberate,
with any luck, enjoyable. Learning is growth.
Postscript: Of the many drinks I have consumed in the many places I’ve stopped at ( fancy as well as hole-in-the-wall joints), I have not seen a single plastic straw. The only straws I’ve been served have been compostable. Often, they are elegant, colorful, sturdily constructed paper. This is what progress looks like.
It’s the lazy days of summer. I hope you’re making the most of
the season. They will become the memories that’ll get you through
the dark, cold days of winter. Ignore the to-do list and savor the
pleasures of summer.
Wrapped in the
heavy with heat
laden with moist
mimic the stars
by tree frogs
Fanned from on
wings of bats
While night moths
Spicy notes of
rise with the
oil of bergamot
essence of rose
content to remain
Greet the dew
of a new day.
by summer’s first dive.
meadow flowers and green, green grass
legs to brush against
to lie back
images of dogs and bears and hunting giants
dazzling day to evening glitter
gathers to mist
sun-warmed faces and naked toes
an endless ride
with ice-cream cones and fireflies
water fights and watermelon wedges
ephemeral age, an ephemeral time
summer passes overnight.
– Shobha Vanchiswar
Note:The Small Works exhibit is on through August. Do make time to see it!
is the freedom to do as one ought to do.
learned this definition in fifth grade civics class – it was how we
started to understand what democracy meant.
cornerstone of a thriving civilization, freedom is all about having
choices. So one can chose their actions bearing
in mind one’s moral responsibility. To
choose to act after discerning between right and wrong, good and
evil. To do what is ethically correct for the greater good.
that in mind, I take this power very seriously. Especially in the
garden where all too often a gardener is inclined to play lord and
master. It’s so
have at our disposal so much control and power that all too often we
forget that gardening is a privilege. The very notion that I can
assume ownership of a piece of earth to do as I please is astounding.
I often kid that I’m the dictator-in-chief of the garden, in
reality, I feel my responsibility greatly. I’m allowed to freely
design, create and play in a this space in whatever way I please.
that is the key. To use good reason.
principle commandment is to do
Whatever action taken must have the least negative impact – on
humans, animals, plants, soil, water or air. On
only organic methods are employed. But, trying to control pests
organically is not without cost. These natural products are not
specific to the
They affect the
good critters as well. So judicious application is imperative.
is used as fertilizer and mulch. The plants enjoy it. As do members
of the animal kingdom. They too
thrive because they are not harmed by compost and hence roam free and
make nests and homes underground and above, destroying root systems,
chomping on leaves and flowers, girdling trees, ruining lawns with
tunnels and burrows etc., Constant
vigilance is required so action can be taken as soon as possible.
Japanese beetles, red lily beetles and such are picked off and
dropped into hot, soapy water. After
years of battling those red devils, I’ve
stopped planting lilies but since I still grow fritillaria (
their close relative),
I must continue
a lookout. Mice, voles and other rodents are trapped. The
fruit trees must be sprayed with dormant oil only under specific
at a particular time of year.
get the idea. It’s
not always easy to do the right thing.
water is collected, a
mower cuts grass, since no herbicides are used, weeds are removed by
hand, native plants dominate the garden and support native fauna and
so on. Every one of those methods involves more work and effort. And
there are times when I’m completely frustrated. However, my
conscience is clear. I’m doing my part in exercising my freedom as
This translates very well to everything else in life. Relationships, raising children, at work, being a part of the community, a town, a city, a country, the world at large. Imagine how powerful exercising our liberties as we should can be.
Note: The reception to Small Works is this Thursday, August 8. I’d love to see you there!
July is coming to a close and what a month it has been in the garden. Hot, messy and erratic. That poem by Pasternak describes it so well.
Dictated by the
weather, I’ve been negligent of my garden duties. It’s just
really hard to get outside and work when merely standing still brings
on the sweat and sends out irresistible invites to all the biting
bugs near and far. Consequently, the chores get done in fits and
starts, bits and pieces. A little weeding here, some deadheading
there. The automatic watering system set up for the pots broke down
and needed fixing – mercifully, the preceding days had been wet so
the plants were relatively unharmed.
The heat wave put
paid to the plants in the pots on the wall on the side terrace.
Despite the daily watering, they simply could not take those high
temperatures. I’ve decided to empty out the pots and not replant.
With a very busy August schedule coming up, it’s time to simplify
They say this June
was the hottest one in recent history and July is turning out to
match it. Who knows what August will do.
appeared as happy surprises in one of the large bay standard pots. A
lone sunflower grew in the vertical garden. I’d stopped planting
lilies a few years ago because I lost the battle with the red lily
beetles. Well, as though waking up after a long slumber, a couple of
lily plants re-emerged this summer. Their leaves are ugly and chewed
up but the flowers look fine and are busy perfuming the front garden.
The garden might
look a bit unruly but it is fragrance heaven. Lilies in front soon to
be followed by phlox, gardenias and orange-blossoms on the side and
jasmine in the back. Heaven.
The meadow has been in serious need of attention. First, the jewelweed took advantage of my apathy and spread itself all over. Once they were deliberately reduced to more manageable numbers, a nettle of the sting-less variety moved in with a vengeance. It needs to be completely and ruthlessly removed all together. It’s been a real task trying to help the many new plants planted in late spring establish themselves. Fingers crossed …
hydrangea are in bloom – they provide much needed color in the
meadow right now. Elsewhere, the Echinacea
in their brightness are drawing the pollinators. I
really ought to plant more of these stalwarts and get rid of the
fussy, finicky members of the
garden. With harsh weather
becoming the new normal, it behooves a gardener to rethink the
season has begun. We’re enjoying the golden cherry tomatoes and
savoring the bigger varieties as they ripen. At this stage, each
fruit is precious. Soon, there will be a glut and we’ll take them
for granted as we make soups,
salads and sauces.
It’s so easy to obsess over the disheveled state of the garden, complain about the heat in July. But, looking around, amidst the green jungle, I see heroic flowers splashing color and fragrance all over. The herbs, leafy greens and, early tomatoes grace our meals. Ripening grapes and pears hold the promise of an autumn harvest. The asters are coming up strong for a good showing to close out the summer.
Under stressful circumstances, the garden is working hard to deliver. I must move to do the same.
We’re just emerging from a brutal heatwave. Whew. This one was
fierce. If it weren’t for air-conditioning I’d be a blob of
melted flesh in migraine hell. I’m acutely aware of how heat
affects me and I’m so grateful for everything that allows me to
This got me to thinking about how the garden must cope when subjected to the stress of a heatwave. Do they sense when the temperatures are going to spike? I imagine they’re in better shape to deal with it if up until that time they’re provided with adequate water and decent soil conditions. Just as in humans, all other living things must face adversity better when they’re healthy. So, I figured my garden ought to at least be grateful for all the tender, loving care it receives all year round. Well, except when I’m on vacation, unwell, in the thick of other work or, being lazy. In general, the garden this year has little to complain about its human carers.
A timely thundershower just ahead of the heatwave saturated the ground handsomely. The roots must’ve plumped out and fed their above ground parts nicely. I was glad I’d deadheaded and cut back some vigorous growers recently. A round of weeding was accomplished as well. Therefore, at the end of the first super hot day, things did not look too bad. Some plants such as the Joe Pye appeared to droop but by late evening they perked up. I wonder if the roots slow down and measure out the water/nutrient supply when conditions are adverse. Then, when they sense that temperatures have dropped below the dangerous numbers, do they speeds up in damage control mode? Or, like me, do the plants have poor appetites when it is so hot? Perhaps when I’ve overcome my own heat related ennui I will research this matter – surely some laboratory must be studying the subject. The results could potentially help us deal with weather related challenges better.
I noticed that during the heatwave, there wasn’t much critter activity. I didn’t see many bees or butterflies and the birds seemed to be limiting their flights and singing. The heat brought on a quiet that seemed appropriate. I too was not inclined to exert much energy. The languor connected us all.
The potted plants received water daily. The high humidity kept the
ground from drying out but, the soil in the pots dried out. Those
plants must have been stressed so much more than their counterparts
in the ground. A friend had dropped off two pots of sizable hibiscus
a couple of days prior to the heatwave. Until now, they had always
been kept indoors so the fact that they were suddenly out in the open
must’ve been a shock. Despite being watered, within a day, the
leaves on top were wiped out – they got totally dry. So ahead of
the canicular days, they were given a cut back and moved to shadier
quarters resembling the indoors they were familiar with.
Fingers-crossed they will toughen up in due course. After all, they
hail originally from warmer climes.
Given water regularly, the vertical garden and tropicals ( in pots)
like the jasmine, gardenia and citrus seem unscathed by the high
heat. The perfume of the flowers of the jasmine and gardenia are
almost overpowering at the beginning and end of day. The lemons are
coming along nicely. The pelargoniums have also come through very
well. Ditto the tomatoes – we enjoyed the first crop of cherry
tomatoes over the weekend. And the meadow looks none the worse for
Any long term effect of the heatwave will no doubt make itself known. I’m hoping there won’t be any. And with any luck there will not be any more heatwaves either. But, I’m not holding my breath.
Note: I would love to see you at the reception to Small Works at The Stable Gallery, Ridgefield, NJon August 8. 7:00 – 9:00pm. The show runs August 2 – 29.
slow, sultry sway of summer has taken over
and it is sweeeet. I’ve taken my cues from the season and slowed my
pace, lightened my load and simplified my days. I get work done but
no new projects are started. Meals focus on fresh, easy to put
together ingredients. Garden chores are limited to only what is
needed – weekly weeding,
watering as required
and deadheading only what’s
obvious. The garden seems to be enjoying doing its own thing –
free-spirited, alive and lush. Kinda bohemian. I appreciate that.
Heck, I aspire to it.
I finally got around to cutting back the asters and other fall blooming perennials by one-third and more so they will be fuller and less leggy at that time. During the cut back, I noticed that the Sanguisorba was under attack by Japanese beetles and there was also a general over-presence of slugs. All the beetles I could see were picked off and dumped into a hot soap solution and then a neem oil spray treatment was applied to the plants right after. It’s been a few years since I’ve had to deal with Japanese beetles. Let’s hope the neem does the trick.
positive outcome – the
allium sphaerocephalon were completely hidden until the asters were
cut back. Now, their deep maroon-purple heads lend bursts of color
amidst an otherwise
overwhelmingly green bed.
of color, that maroon-purple hue is having a moment in the front
perennial beds. The echinacea, alliums, acanthus, butterfly bushes
and geraniums are all in variations of that shade. Soon the
Eupatorium will join in. It looks like I planned it that way but no,
I cannot take that credit. One of those happy accidents of nature
that I’ve come to rely on.
Swiss chard is showing up frequently at meals. Easy to cook and so
delicious. The first cherry tomatoes and figs have been savored and
now I’m impatient for a regular supply. Zucchini
are the current
favorite. Stuffed with mildly
and fried tempura style, they are just soooo good. Using the flowers
also prevents having the inevitable surplus of zucchini to contend
with later in the season. We leave only
a small number to reach fruition. Just enough for a few ratatouille
meals and several
loaves of tasty breads to sweeten winter mornings (the bread freezes
made a big batch of arugula pesto last week. There was an abundance
of the leaves and it seemed a good thing to make. I froze a large
portion and refrigerated some of the pesto to use this week in pasta
and also in sandwiches. With all the outdoor concerts and plays we’re
attending, picnic meals need to be put together. Sandwiches of
arugula or basil pesto with sun-dried tomatoes with or without fresh
mozzarella elevate the repast.
yes, the mojito mint is thriving and being put to good use! FYI –
the leaves also make for an
appetizing Indian chutney that we
use in sandwiches and as a condiment to pair with crackers, samosas
the butterflies and bees make their rounds has become my go-to method
for decompressing. It’s very effective – I highly recommend it.
Ditto for spending some time taking in the show of fireflies at
you get lulled into taking it too easy, this is the time to order
bulbs for fall planting. It
might feel strange to think about next spring right now but take my
word – you will miss out on bagging some special and/or unusual
bulbs if you wait too long. It’s a nice thing to do when you’re
indoors in air-conditioned comfort on a sweltering hot day. You will
only be charged when the bulbs are shipped in the fall at the
appropriate planting time for your zone. So
just get it done!
Now, back to my summer reading and a tall glass of lemonade …
Note:I’m participating in two upcoming art shows in August and September. Do please mark your calendars to check them out.
The word labyrinth comes from the Greek labyrinthos and describes any maze-like structure with a single path through it which differentiates it from an actual maze which may have multiple paths intricately linked.
Labyrinths and labyrinthine symbols have been dated to the Neolithic Age in diverse regions across the globe. They continue playing a role in modern times.
My love affair with labyrinths began at childhood. The mystery books I devoured often featured a labyrinth or maze to offer riddles and clues in ways I now realize might have been a tad bit romanticized. Over the years, while mazes remain fun and exciting in a ‘hide-and-seek’ meets treasure-hunting sort of way, labyrinths have taken on a more meaningful, sacred role. To me, mazes get you to focus exclusively on the task of finding ones way to the center and then making the return trip to get out, thereby providing a complete distraction which can be refreshing and exhilarating. Getting lost and/or confused is all part of the experience.
In traversing a labyrinth, one can ostensibly see its entire design. The center is visible at all times. Where one is trying to get to is apparent. How to do so is not as clear. It’s only by mindful walking, taking in all the turns and switchbacks, that an individual makes it to the center – itself a site for rest and reflection. Labyrinths are not meant to be challenging. Instead they gently guide the walker to move through at an easy pace whilst permitting him/her to observe, think and center the mind. In doing so, by the time one reaches the labyrinth’s center, the mind has shed itself of all other distractions and arrives prepared for deeper meditation. In perfect silence, a well laid labyrinth teaches life lessons to all who walk it. Like the best of therapists it has us work out all our issues by ourselves.
A labyrinth sits there as a ready escape from chaos, a world gone mad, to find once again one’s true north. Typically set outdoors, it partners beautifully with nature to calm the mind and heart by purposefully removing the walker from the normal, linear understanding of time and direction. Slowly, the outside world recedes and one becomes aware of the world within ourselves. How we are feeling, what we hope for, the conflicting thoughts, the elusive solutions rise up and get understood. This active meditation leads to the deep meditation awaiting at the center. Sitting in quiet, breathing deeply and surrendering all diversionary thoughts gives one the gift of emerging clear headed and relaxed. Ready to face with clarity and acceptance that complex, noisy world we live in.
I’ve always longed to design a labyrinth. A good labyrinth has an ideal size. Too small and it fails to decompress the mind because the center is reached too quickly. Too big and it can get tedious. The amount of walking and turning must be just right. Even the width of the path must be correct – not too narrow and constricting or too wide and spacious. Creating an ideal labyrinth is not as easy as it might seem. Scale is key. Making paths of grass or mulch bordered by stones, low growing plants or any other natural material keeps the cost quite low. The simpler the better. Yet, an ideal design and layout is a call for creativity.
The only part of my garden that could support a proper labyrinth would be where the meadow lies. However, this area is sloped and uneven and must not be leveled for reasons of water drainage and run-off. I’m thus resigned to not having this feature of my own.
Last Sunday, I was taken to an absolutely lovely labyrinth at the Priory in Weston, Vermont. Sited on an open, flat space laid with paths of grass outlined by single lines of brick set in the ground, it is beautifully simple. The size is perfect and the design takes you just long enough to get to the inviting seats in the center. Beyond the labyrinth is a vast, open meadow full of native grasses and wild flowers. Birds, butterflies, bees and other critters abound. Feeling vulnerable and humble, I walked with the sounds of nature keeping me company. The sun was bright and a light breeze kept me from getting too warm. Seated in the center, as I came out of my reflections empowered and reaffirmed, I observed the meadow with the swaying grasses woven through with seasonal blooms of milkweed, daisies, black-eyed Susans and other flowers, above them, swallowtail butterflies played tag with each other – it all seemed so tranquil despite the obvious activity going on. The whole scene serving as a reminder that “creativity flows from a quiet mind”. As a flight of goldfinches rose up from within this meadow and made their separate ways, I too got up and purposefully followed the path to take me back to my awaiting world. Just as I left the labyrinth the priory bell was rung calling all to prayer and morning service. I did not join – I had after all just completed my worship.
It’s July. Fireworks, fireflies, picnics, barbecues, beaches and
books. In addition, for me, mosquitoes, mojitos, air-conditioning,
heat, humidity and guilt. I have very mixed feelings about summer.
The light filled days promise endless hours of outdoor pleasures and
the nights punctuated with bursts of firefly light and the fragrance
of summer phlox and gardenias bewitch and yet, I find myself banished
indoors for a good portion of the day seeking solace in
air-conditioned rooms redolent with gardenia in budvases and
rose-geranium infused lemonade. During the day, prone to migraines
triggered by the heat and humidity, I succumb easily to those
conditions. At night, the mosquitoes turn out in full force making it
near impossible to sit without itching and scratching. I’m loathe
to reach out for the only truly effective deterrent – a DEET spray.
Using it every now and then is fine but slathering it on everyday
makes me uneasy.
What works for me is to get some garden chores done in the cool,
early hours of the morning. It is actually quite pleasant working at
that time as the chorus of birds keep me company and the bees getting
a head start to their day inspire me to get cracking with my own. At
this mostly quiet period of the morning, I find myself occupied with
what needs doing whilst still enjoying the garden in its rather
riotous state of summer growth. A good couple of hours go by before
I’m made aware that I’m hot, uncomfortable and quite ready to
escape to cooler confines.
I’m certainly not inclined to deprive myself of the joys of
spending summer nights watching fireflies and inhaling the sweet
perfumes of flowers that I’ve grown for that very purpose.
Spritzing myself with a blend of citronella and cloves I go forth
into the evening. A fan is brought out to do double duty – deter all
flying bugs and keep us relatively comfortable in the circulating
air. The DEET spray is always on stand-by – it’s a love-hate
At a party last week, I was introduced to a new anti-mosquito gadget
brought to the event for a test run by another friend. It seemed to
work as I was not bitten that evening. So I’ve purchased one for my
own use. Before I rush to endorse it, I shall use it a few times
first. Stay tuned.
To take advantage of the warmer months, I ease up on chores and find
myself slowing down my pace. More books are read, outdoor summer
concerts and plays replace screen-time almost entirely. It seems only
right to linger over al fresco meals and sip a cocktail or two slowly
as one walks around inspecting the garden. Impromptu picnics, sunset
viewings and star gazing stretch out the season. Time is taken to
savor the bounty from the garden and farm stand. I love to slowly
roast corn on the cob directly over the coals and then, with a
sprinkling of flakes of sea salt and a dusting of cayenne pepper
brightened with a splash of lime, it explodes in the mouth in a burst
of sweet, salty, spicy and sour. Divine. And how about a watermelon
salad tossed with fresh cherry tomatoes, feta and torn up basil? I
think I even eat ice cream more slowly and mindfully in summer than
at any other season.
While I’m reveling in the unhurried rhythm of summer, there is a
fair amount of guilt that shadows me. The garden looks like a small
child allowed to dress herself. Sweet but quite messy. I’m not
keeping up with the pace the plants grow and need deadheading,
staking and trimming. Weeds shoot up even as I work to keep them at
bay. The tiny lawn looks ragged beseeching me for a regular feed of
compost and the meadow quickly gets overrun by jewelweed smothering
out less aggressive but more desirable plants. Still consumed with
guilt, I’m determined to go on fully engaging with summer. It’s
all too short and I know I will regret it if I have too few memories
of it to keep me warm in winter.
And so I keep dancing with summer. Barefoot and guilty.
Note:Images of the neglected state of my garden – they should make you feel good about yours!