Monday, May 21, 2018 – Sunday Afternoon, In Which I Get Nothing Done

A visitor to a garden sees the successes, usually. The gardener remembers mistakes and losses, some for a long time, and imagines the garden in a year, and in an unimaginable future.”

 W.S. Merwin, What Is a Garden?

I get nothing done.

Church, in the morning, followed by a trip to a garden centre for parsley and a stop by the community garden to water. Then home, a light lunch—open faced salmon sandwiches made with the salmon I canned last summer—enjoyed while we chat about a trip we’re planning.

We head outside, and Gerry prepares a little container I decided to use for basil. I set the plants in tenderly, imagining what they’ll look like in a month. I planted lots of basil this year—here and in my community garden plot. One can never have enough basil,; and pesto freezes so wonderfully, providing  mid-winter tastes of summer.

I drag out the hose and water the pottager garden in the back yard. Cabbage, radishes, onions, salad turnips have all made an appearance. The clump of chives in the corner is in full bloom.

Then the hostas and echinops, and something I can’t identify and I haven’t my made my mind up if it’s a weed or something I planted last year, get a drink.

I move on to the coleus and coral bells then drag the heavy hose up the hill to the front of the house to do the pots where I planted morning-glory and sweet peas. Gerry fashioned climbing trellises; I’m looking forward to see how they turn out.

On to the herbs: chocolate mint, thyme, and oregano; and finally to the ever-changing front perennial bed where that flower-that-I-made-an-uneasy-peace-with-but-that-I-can’t-for-the-life-of-me-at-this-moment-recall-its-name (aging: sometimes frustrating), reigns for the time being. A poppy, red and sassy, blooms amidst the pink, and greenery of varying shapes and sizes promise change as the season progresses.

I wind the hose up, go inside and retrieve my camera, and sit at peace on the grass by the pottager garden capturing images of chive blossoms. While I process the photos in the woman cave, Gerry makes a phone call and confirms the dog sitter for our time away.

Then we decide to drive down the hill to take a walk in the park and check out the rising water level. We’re tempted to stop for ice cream, but it’s 5:30 when we are at a crossroads: do we go for ice cream or head for the car? We decide, since we haven’t had supper yet, to head for the car and home. In retrospect, I think we should have chosen the ice cream.

I get nothing done on projects, but what’s important gets done.

And it is well.


I’m a writer, reader, and creative. I thought by now I’d have things figured out, but I keep coming up with more questions. I think that’s okay. I’m here most mornings pondering ordinary things and the thin places where faith intersects.

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