Cathartic Gardening Part 2

As promised I made my way out the back door to garden this morning though it was barely morning. I had procrastinated long enough singing away on my computer and gulping down buckets full of coffee. I walked outside coffee in hand and surveyed the situation. My gardens, once full of flowers, life and joy was now filled with weeds, dead wood, and sorrow. I wasn't just going to extract the dead rosebushes and weeds I was battling my demons with a shovel. I sat down in the grass which at this point was warmed by the almost noon sun and extracted the fence between me and my largest rose garden. I eyed the spider webs with a grimace. I was not to be deterred even by the vampires of the insect world. I tenuously grabbed my first handful of weeds and was instantly pricked by a dead piece of rosebush clumsily scattered in my garden. How life reflects life, one must examine closely before reaching in blindly. I think of another saying, “on the fields of hesitation lay the bones and souls of fallen soldiers, so I take that advice and soldier on in my task. I have my bucket standing by and carefully pull handful after handful out of my garden. It seemed a daunting task and I was using my bare hands as I couldn't find my gardening gloves. The more I pulled the louder the echo's of the past seemed. “Baby it's our love fern except it's a rose.” “Play us another tune Pam!” “This rosebush is like our love it will grow and bloom and be beautiful.” “Mommy can I pick some of your special roses for my teacher?” “This rose bush is almost identical to the one that my Grampa had.” “Have you ever been kissed in the rain?” Sadness crept in with my determination and so I prayed for the strength and determination to empty this garden of thorns and sorrow and blessing on the future.

I thought of old girlfriends past, friend who had come and gone and the laughter of my child who had once played in the sand box where my grape vine now overgrew. The longer I peered into my garden the more hidden things I found. The spiders had made a home there and I saw Daddy Long-legs in brilliantly neon colours. Usually I am afraid of the creatures but today I examined them as they danced along their paths obviously frightened by the deforesting that was going on, unless they came towards me and then I squished them with my shoe. I was not afraid, I sat patiently waiting for them to hurry along. With each handful of weeds I pulled a memory came up. Some happy, some sad, but all of them mine. My hands were filthy and bleeding from the thorns and the dirt. Each bucket of weeds I dumped lifted a weight of my shoulders and my soul. Before long I had weeded the entire garden and all that was left was the bones of dead rosebushes. I was exhausted and I still had 2 more gardens to pull. It was about then I got a message from my family member asking if I could take out the dog to pee.

It provided me the break that I needed. I picked up my shovel and dug it in the ground. The first one came up with a pop. I had already driven a shovel into several times last night and it came up quite easily. I moved onto the next one. It required more work as the roots had grown deeper, but it too was hollow and easily extracted, same with the next one. The fourth one I groaned with effort. The sun was beaming down and the sweat had started to pour off of me. It was the last one in this garden and I had set a time limit and needed to take the dog out. The bush fought back. I wondered at the intricate patterns of roots that it had. It finally came up with a snap. When I had picked up the thorny tangled mess of wood and roots I noticed that two new shoots were growing off of it.

The preservationist inside me said there is still life, we can nurture it and make it grow. Alas I had made the decision to allow new things and unceremoniously tossed it over the fence. Life reflects life and I had made the decision to start anew instead of waiting to see and hoping for the best. It couldn't stay no matter how beautiful it was. I rushed out to do my chore and came back to my garden. I started pulling weeds from underneath my concord grape vine that we had dubbed Virginia. I thought of my friend who's birthday fell on the day of my wedding and lamented that I couldn't locate her email to send her well wishes on her birthday.

This garden was smaller and held no roses but I still managed to grab a hold of a thistle and cut my finger again. I pulled up my weeds and it too laid bare in desperate need of some soil that had been washed away. I moved on to my final garden. My daughter had come home and was busy chatting on the phone in the house with a school yard chum.

I found lost treasures from my old gazebo and I missed the shelter it once provided for me and my family. I laughed when my daughter came outside and asked, “Mom are we going to replace the gazebo or are we just going to use that umbrella thingy?” Someday I told her we would but for now we have the umbrella. She shrugged her shoulders and started plucking the weeds that had grown up between the patio stones.

I had finished weeding the gardens and the final chore was to extract the final rosebush. I knew that it was going to be a pain because we had purchased it about 7 years before and the thing was a monster. Fortunately I had hacked it down in the fall expecting it to grow again in the spring. Ah life, assume nothing. I picked up my shovel and thrust it into the stalk that in some places was 3 finger lengths thick. It snapped and crunched and every time I thought it was going to let go the shovel slide off. Finally I pulled it up. Some of the roots had been living which was why it was so hard to extract, but this final bush was destined to be extracted. “But it's our love fern” a voiced from the past argued.

It too went over the fence. I looked at my hands. The were dirty and sore, but I noticed something. Long ago I had twin tattoo's on my wrist to remind me of the important things in life. Although my hands were covered in dirt from the weeds and dust from ghosts past something stood out. Hope and Faith. It was my final catharsis. With my hands I had faced my demons and battled the weeds but I still had hope and faith and now my gardens and life were ready for something new. So tonight I dream about lilac bushes, roses, pansy’s snap dragons, flames and hens and chickens that I want to plant next year when money isn't so tight.

Perhaps I might dream of the new things the Lord will bless me with in the coming years as well. One final thought ... although bare I am blessed to have a garden at all!