Garden Love = Garden Ache
Or How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Pain
Gardening was in her blood. Her paternal grandmother had a backyard garden that sustained the family, growing food during the depression. As a child her favorites were both picking and eating the fresh red currents, and the current jelly that came from her grandmother’s kitchen. And no less amazing was the apple butter, made from the delicious apples she would pluck from the backyard tree and immediately bite into, the juice dribbling down her chin. Once, her sister didn’t look closely at the apple before biting, and discovered half a worm in the apple. The other half had, of course, been chewed and swallowed by the time the worm was spotted. Much laughter ensued, to her sister’s chagrin.
Growing up there was no vegetable garden at her home, but there was a large yard with a variety of plants and trees. She would help her father on occasion as he watered the yard, or raked up the abundance of oak leaves that always seemed to be dropping from the sky. Back then gardeners were scarce, most people took care of their own property. No sound pollution produced by leaf blowers, no gas powered lawn mowers emitting fumes, no sprinkler systems wasting water by watering the sidewalk not the plants. Neighborhood fathers would stop and talk while taking care of the yard, sports scores and a bit of gossip exchanged.
Now, the yard is hers and she takes great joy from tending to the plants. Living in a desert environment meant native plants were needed to withstand the drought conditions. The ornamental lawn days were over, though many haven’t been able to let it go. She began planting succulents and native flowers for the pollinators who are so important to the land. She found great joy in the garden. She found peace in the garden. She found healing in the garden. Gardening was like getting one hour of therapy without having to pay.
But her aging body soon found it more difficult to do what she had always done. Hauling bags of dirt and compost, bending and digging holes to plant seeds. Didn’t her body realize how much her mind needed this? Conventional medicine did not always sooth her anxiety and slow her mind. Conventional medicine came with side effects, which gardening did not. Until now.
The years of standing all day and lifting heavy objects took its toll on her back. A disc in her spine wore down until it was paper thin, another bulging out of it’s assigned space. Cartilage wore thin in the joints, causing her once sassy walk to become what felt like more of a waddle. Only ducks could get away with a sassy waddle, she thought. And she was certainly no duck.
So, what to do about this dilemma? She learned to compromise, though this was difficult. She had always been one to just do what needed to be done. In this life you had better learn how to juggle, because a lot of balls are going to be flung at you. Even when she wasn’t even trying to be in the game, trying to sit on the sideline quietly, trying not to be noticed, life found her and kept lobbing those balls her way. She quickly learned how to juggle.
Learning to compromise was different, it meant giving something up. But giving something up does not mean abandoning it completely. Sometimes it meant doing less, or changing her approach. Instead of hours in the yard, one hour would have to suffice. Instead of planting an entire vegetable patch in the spring, maybe a few pots of simple plants like peppers and herbs. Weeding would have to be an ongoing project, a little bit here and a little bit there. Weeds are like the guy at the bar who won’t take a hint, coming back again and again.
Dealing with the chronic pain had been debilitating at times, grinding her down to a proverbial nub while raising up her anxiety and depression. She always had gardening and being out in the fresh air to make her feel better, but now she felt that had been taken away too, along with her ability to just freely move about.
She grieved for her youth and mobility, being able to make a spontaneous decision to go on a hike or to the mall without planning out the anti-inflammatory and pain relieving medication she would need to take. She grieved not being able to just dance when she heard a solid beat from Missy Elliot. She grieved and grieved and grieved.
Then she got over herself and learned how to compromise. She realized her physical pain was compounding her mental pain, and she just could not let that happen anymore.
Gardening = zen = self care = life = love = nature = nurture = a pain that will not stop her.