Rain Gardens

Rain, rain, rain nearly every day. When the rain stops, the sun creates a steambath effect.

When I got out of work a little early, stopped by a garden center to pick up bee balm, Russian sage (such a heavenly scent), rudibeckia (in memory of my friend Becky), black sweet potato vines, artemesia, diantha, blue salvia, and hen and chickens. Most of these plants were distressed and half-priced, so I brought them home to heal.

My garden assistant planted them around the little mailbox garden by the road. He also worked 40 pounds of cow manure and compost into the soil of the kitchen garden.

July already, and still no big garden. As I look out at the field of mostly white clover that is the front yard, I begin to come to terms with the thought that the garden of my dreams is not yet to be. Why disturb the feng shui for now? I don’t deal well with heat and humidity. Perhaps a fall garden, perhaps a spring garden next spring, perhaps not at all.

One thing I do know for now is that I want to “master” the art and science of gardening in the two four by eight feet raised beds: the kitchen garden and the herb garden that has become mostly a sage garden.

The sage can be transplanted and new herbs planted. I do love to pick fresh herbs for cooking.

Today I’ll order earthworms (although I’ve dug up quite a few already) and study more about high Brix gardening. Feed the soil, feed the soil.

I love gardening for the concrete feel of dirt beneath my fingernails, watching things grow and bloom. Then there’s the metaphorical aspect.

Feed the soul, give it rain, rest, and the compost of adversity.Treat it with respect and reverence. Give the same to others’ souls, and live in harmony so far as possible with all beings.

So as the rain continues its inexorable course, I feed my soul by working and playing in the new Moleskine journal and making notes about this new life story and the seeds of the next. Next steps, and only a few at a time.

To gardens, rain, and sunshine everywhere. Let us welcome what comes. As Browning wrote, “Greet the unseen with a cheer.”