But his garden tour was irresistible, capturing a lazy summer day amid an unfussy burst of green, green, and more green. How delightful it must be, watching perfect little tomatoes ripen before your eyes!
This spring, I moved to a house with a cute backyard garden. The mature trees and plants seemed to be thriving on their own. So, during the initial post-move weeks (uh, months), the garden remained untouched.
Finally, in August, I decided to intervene; the clover weeds were growing wild. The soil was packed solid from a gloriously sunny Vancouver summer, so I began working the day after an unusual downpour. Progress was slow. The ground remained hard, roots ran deep, and scampering encounters with daddy longlegs made me jumpy.
I piled the dug-up weeds and roots in mounds, and quit in far less than an hour. (I’ll never accuse my parents, both green thumbs, of not exercising enough.) I looked at the garden beds. Sigh. They looked virtually unchanged.
With my writing and blogging, yoga training and teaching, summer travel and new pets, gardening fell to the wayside. Now it’s too late. Leaves are dropping, and the gloomy drizzle of winter is here.
I failed in my job as household gardener (foisted on me because I come from green-thumbed stock), and I’m feeling rueful. I might get a second chance come spring, but never again can I have a summer garden of 2010.
If I eventually do love gardening, it will be a learned pleasure, an acquired taste. I wasn’t compelled to garden the way I’m compelled to practice yoga or write my blog.
Were you drawn to your passions and pursuits immediately or gradually? And have you ever abandoned a project that seemed appealing but simply didn’t suit you?