Mine grows in spite of me. Dirty little secret #794: I hate gardening. Hate. it. I love gardens. I admire those people who can spend hours upon hours with their hands in the dirt making their gardens show pieces (my across the street neighbor is like that. Luckily, she put up an eight foot privacy fence in her backyard so I don't have to see her slaving away in her gardens all day).
Don't get me wrong, I adore flowers. I've even grown pumpkins from the jack o' lantern that fell off the front porch into the untended flower bed. I'd just rather stick nails in my eyes than do the gardening. One of the major problems I have with the gardening is that I always get poison ivy when I do any sort of yard work. It doesn't matter what sort of yard work (raking leaves, pulling weeds, picking up sticks). I get poison ivy every time. Every.flipping.time.
I also hate to get dirty and sweat. This is definitely problematic when it comes to gardening. Nothing could be less relaxing or therapeutic for me than spending my day up to my elbows in dirt. That being said, I do have flowers in my garden...and various shrubberies and plants that I haven't killed through my neglect.
Nothing thrilled me more than to see the first crocus pop through the soil after the 6 months and 47 feet of snow we had this winter.* The daffodils and lone tulip that bloomed made me smile every time I walked by. The lilies that have exploded throughout my garden with all the hot weather brighten my day. The hydrangea (that had purple blooms when I planted it) survived being buried under all that snow, and it is bright pink and thriving. In spite of me.
I have been sorely tempted to dig everything up and just quit. I mean, I could plant fake flowers...or rocks...or a flock of plastic flamingos. I figure my garden is a metaphor for my life. It's not always perfect, things are sometimes way out of control, but there are bright spots that make it all worth while.
*Length of winter and amount of snow estimated only
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