“What is a weed? A plant whose virtues have never been discovered.” — Ralph Waldo Emerson
This year I have approached my garden from an Emersonian viewpoint, embracing the virtues of weeds. A house remodeling project in the spring, a book idea, and unbearable stretches of heat this summer have led to an unprecedented level of garden neglect on my part. I have told friends and family that 2012 is the year of Garden as Science Project.
A few years ago this would have been unimaginable. I regularly rose at the crack of dawn to fit in gardening before the Virginia heat and humidity descended. These days, exercise and writing have elbowed their way to the top of my precious early morning hours priority list.
I’m choosing to frame this as progress. In the weeks preceding my mastectomy three years ago, if I wasn’t at a doctor appointment I was in the garden, clearing dead brush and yanking weeds like so many cancerous cells, planting dahlia tubers for the promise of saturated blooms in the fall, and spreading hundreds of pounds of mulch while I was still able. I knew I was to be banned from lifting anything for weeks at a time after the mastectomy and subsequent reconstruction surgeries.
Within a few days of being back home after the mastectomy, cabin fever set in. Gardening had always been a therapeutic passion for me, and I was not only under doctors’ orders to refrain from digging, planting, and weeding, I couldn’t have managed it if I had tried. I was shocked at the toll the surgery took on my energy levels, having been blessed with a strong and healthy body my whole life.
I wandered through my garden in my bathrobe, dragging the watering hose with my good arm while trying to ignore the drainage hose hanging like a gas siphon from my ribcage. I apologized to the plants that begged for more attention, snipped a few hydrangea blossoms to bring inside, and went back to bed. Physical weakness was a totally foreign sensation for me, and I didn’t handle it well, finally succumbing to depression and self-pity. I sucked at being sick.
But we both survived, my garden and I. It taught me a lot. My body had a strong foundation, the garden had a strong foundation. I am back and stronger than ever. My garden is strong enough to do its own thing this year, with surprises bursting forth in every corner.
Just when I think I should pull out the lanky volunteer Verbena Bonariensis flowers from between the hydrangeas, I’ll see the sunbeam flash of a Goldfinch feasting on their seeds. The mild winter and my spotty job of mulching created fertile spots not only for chickweed to sprout, but also for snapdragons to reseed, saving me money on garden center bedding plants; even some petunias overwintered in pots that should have been cleared out. I will take these gifts of my neglect as a message that it’s OK to ratchet down the control every once in a while.
How does your garden grow? Let me know in the reply box!
monica says
martha, i still need your advise on building a garden :) this is my weak area.
love,
monica
Martha says
Let’s trade services, Monica! I have more questions about technical issues with the blog!
Marcia says
Well, having just gauged my left wrist with the small pruners in an effort to hack back the honeysuckle and improve our view of the water, I am feeling a bit introspective as well. After leaving a trail of gushing blood from the backyard, into the porch and through the kitchen, and then fainting at the sight of the blood, I am reviewing “why it happened”. (Having enjoyed the support of my husband, who got me lying on the floor, stabilized the wound, dressed it, checked my blood pressure and gave me apple juice (followed by ice cream, etc)
The why: First, so that I could appreciate a loving husband. He went from a bit of shock and panic into thoughtful, attentive and effective response mode. Thank goodness he rejected immediate thoughts (drive me to the hospital 30 minutes away, call 911) and focused on stopping the bleeding, keeping me prone and quiet, and watching for signs of having cut the tendon or subcutaneous bleeding! (Ha! Martha you never expected such a long response!!!)
But second, and more to the point for your piece: I realized I was in attack mode, rushing, dealing with the beautiful outdoors and dry air and sunshine as if it were an Olympic sprint (another “ha!” as watching the Olympics makes one realize how incredibly beyond the average human’s capability the Olympic athletes are). Had I been calmly appreciating the day, unwinding the honeysuckle as I liberated trees, appreciating the very view that I sought to enhance, I probably would not have stabbed myself!
But enough of me!! So glad, Martha, for your inner strength, your resilience and your appreciation of nature’s gifts!! (Similarly, we down here are appreciating that where trees went down during Irene, there is now plentiful sunshine for new trees and flowers!)
Brian says
Sometimes I wonder if Emerson was really talking about Jim Stafford’s song Wildwood Weed. Oh, now where did that come from? It’s also very healthy for your garden to go “fallow” for a season or two (crop rotation). Maybe some call it an “English Garden”.