Gardening – Page 5 – Cynthia Reyes

A Good Home, Flowers, Garden, Gardening, Gardens, Home, Writers

The Guilty Gardener

July 17, 2014July 20, 2014 Cynthia Reyes

I love gardening.

But for a smart person, I can be really stupid.

A pain-filled fall and winter got worse as we headed toward spring: the few times I went out, I caught something.

Flu.

Bronchitis.

A cough that wouldn’t end.

Worn out and afraid of falling, I rarely even went into the garden.

Stuck in bed, I tried to write my way back to sanity and health.

Spring came.

And then.

“You’ve relapsed,” the specialist said flatly during my hospital visit.

“Guilty,” I replied. “Sorry.”

“Do NOT feel guilty,” she answered. “It was an awful winter. All my patients with complex injuries had a very tough time.”

“But your immune system is also weak,” she warned. “Be very careful this spring.”

I listened.

I promised.

And I was. And then.

It was gardening season.

Day after day, my husband worked hard in the garden.

I watched, feeling entirely useless.

He left, on an errand.

And then.

I spied a large crop of forget-me-not growing into the lawn from the garden beds. I know they bug him, and I know they’re easy to dig with a trowel. And so I thought I’d help.

A small thing.

A good thing.

I could do this. I crouched over the lawn and started digging, feeling useful. When the back and leg pain intensified, I lay on my front, face just above the grass.

I dug, sneezing as dust went into my nose.

Then I spied a few dandelions nearby. Now I crouched over them, trowel engaged.

“Stop!” said my wiser self.

I listened.

I meant to.

In just a few seconds.

And then.

My sense of time did not kick in. It rarely does.

When I got up, the pain almost knocked me out. I staggered. Stumbled. Fought against falling, my cane desperately trying to find purchase in the ground.

“Cynthia! Cynthia!” came the panicked shout.

I had not heard my husband return.

I ask you: which is worse?

To watch your partner struggle to do the gardening duties that you loved doing — on top of everything else on his plate? Or risk even worse pain — and his distress — by doing a few small gardening things to help? Some days, I’m almost used to the pain. It’s with me all the bloody time.

But the guilt? I never get used to the guilt of watching him do all the gardening work. It drives me nuts.

“Why do you do this?” He shook his head, frustrated and angry. “You know better!”

Yes I do.

So I’m obeying the doctor. Again.

Sparing my husband distress. Again.

Trying to cope with guilt. Again.

All stuff that requires a person to be not just smart, but wise.

So far, so good.

Wish me luck.

Dedicated to all gardeners who are struggling due to age, illness or pain. And to the caring people who help us: thank you.

A Good Home, Canadian Gardens, Earwigs, Garden Humour, Garden Pests, Gardening, Japanese Beetles, Life in canada, Living sustainably, Mosquitoes, Nature

A Gardener’s Question to God

July 12, 2014June 23, 2016 Cynthia Reyes

When you said we should love all your creatures

And I try – you know that I do

When you told us that we should love them

Did you mean mosquitoes too?

Yes, I know that some humans are awful

And I know we’ve not done very well

And it’s true that I felt some relief, God

When the Vatican redefined hell

Cause I have to confess that when bitten

My thoughts would make even you blush

And I really can wait for your answer

There is truly no need for a rush

You know how it hurts me to kill them

How I wince and regret such bad things

But please tell me why you made some creatures

Why on earth did you give them their wings?

Take that Japanese beetle for instance

In fact, I implore you, please do

Cause that Japanese beetle’s created

Leafy holes big enough to see through

God, those beetles will be my undoing

As they munch on our healthy green leaves

Did you see what they did to our garden

Do you not think them terrible thieves?

And another thing, God, that I wonder

For those earwigs are such awful pests

Who have set up their homes in our veggies

Did you mean them or just all the rest?

So dear God, I must ask you this question

Cause I know you like people with spunk

When you made such troublesome creatures

Were you maybe a little bit drunk?

There are people in my blogging network

Who’ll be horrified that I’m so bold

But I really do need to be honest

Cause I like being part of your fold

So again I must ask you this question

And I know you will tell me the truth

Do you not think that some of your creatures

Are a tiny bit mean and uncouth?

I am sorry to bug you with nonsense

And I know that I should never fuss

For some people are dealing with big things

And they never complain, swear or cuss

But dear God could you give me an answer

One day when you’ve got some free time

As to what I should think of these insects

‘Stead of writing ridiculous rhyme

When you said we should love all your creatures

And I try – you know how I do

When you said that we really should love them

Did you mean all the awful ones too?

Somewhat Inspired by Theologian C. H. Spurgeon, via Levi Thetford’s blog.

A Good Home, Flowering Vegetables, Flowers, Gardening, Homes, Vegetable Garden

You Can’t Eat Flowers

July 11, 2014July 11, 2014 Cynthia Reyes

This is the rallying cry of People Who Grow Vegetables.

People like My Better Half.

And his friend Vito, the neighbour who regularly turns up his nose at my flowers. Which is exactly why I had this picture taken of Vito among the flowers.

For spite.

But I digress.

Again.

Sorry ’bout that.

Truth is, you have to give thanks for People Who Grow Vegetables, because while I love flowers, I also love to eat fresh food. So lettuce be grateful. (Sorry — I couldn’t resist.)

Here then, is a pictorial salute to vegetable gardeners. It is made up of tomatoes, peppers, cucumbers, beets, lettuce, asparagus and other good stuff from the earth.

The photos, as promised, are of My Better Half’s vegetable garden.

In this shot (below centre), asparagus spears have been left to grow into ferns. They’ll be thick and lush in weeks.

On the right are spinach and salad greens, including my favorite arugula. On the left: A raspberry bush, gifts from our friends Paddy and Jacqui. It’s loaded with berries right now.

But what’s that I see? Flowers.

Yes! Vegetables have flowers….. starting with zucchini…

Then cukes…

And squash….

Gee whiz – it’s a veritable flower garden! Even the eggplant is bloomin’!

Not sure about the eggplant, but I’m told that zucchini and other vegetable flowers are edible.

So who says you can’t eat flowers?

Photos by H. Grange

A Good Home, Faith, Family, Family Moments, Farm house, Flowering shrubs, Flowers, Gardening, Gardens, Gratitude, Home, Homes, Inspiration

Flowers, Memories, Diaries

July 9, 2014July 9, 2014 Cynthia Reyes

Memory is the diary we all carry about with us, wrote Oscar Wilde.

But for me, diary is memory. Years of memories.

Family, home, garden, daily life.

Diaries played a small role in my overall life, but became a huge part of my post-accident experience. With little sense of time, and often no memory of events just minutes after they happened, I started writing in my journal again.

Little things. Big things. Write it down quickly.

A doctor played a key role. She told me to record events as they happened, figuring I could share these entries with the medical professionals I visited. My memory and speech problems were so bad, she noted, that “No other specialist will take two hours to try to figure out what you are saying. Write.”

Of course, that’s not word-for-word. But I scribbled down her order.

I returned to keeping journals. Some of the entries were so painful, I vowed to never re-read them.

The best? Entries about time with family.

Next best: time in the garden.

I used to keep a journal to track my gardens’ progress. The major triumphs and minor tragedies, the plans carried out and those forgotten.

Now, no longer able to garden, I was reduced to observing. But observing led to writing and writing led to “remembering”.

The first spring bulbs to bloom.

The first night-bloomer of the season.

The first time the fern-leaf peonies – presents from friends Les and Sandra – bloomed.

The hollyhock that bloomed in two colours.

The mysterious flower that showed up one summer.

Red currants, seeds planted by birds or breeze.

When your brain doesn’t work efficiently, you misplace things. When you’re in too much pain to move, you can’t go looking for things somewhere else. So I learned to keep the garden journal on the verandah, and other journals in every room of the house.

An onlooker, seeing me writing on that lovely verandah, might have thought: “What a charmed life.”