As much as I love my garden, it does have a tendency to become just another list of chores and things that must be tended. I like the work, but I often find myself so consumed with the work that I never sit back and enjoy the fruits of my labor. This season, I’ve decided to be intentional about celebrating what happens in the garden. Starting now.
Yesterday I spent the afternoon pulling grass out of the strawberry patch, digging out the dead plants, and relocating the ones that had wandered. Anyone who has grown strawberries will tell you that they don’t stay put. I planted our strawberry patch about 8 years ago and, due to various pregnancies and nursing babies, have not made any attempt to contain them. 8 years unrestrained has meant a lot of wandering.
I dug up a large chunk that was overtaking the path and gave it to a friend’s garden. Then dug up a dozen or so that were invading the chives and the lavender and used them to fill out the bare spots.
With an hour or so of daylight left, I turned the dirt in a few beds that they may be ready to receive some spring veggie seeds this weekend.
Such hope and promise to be found in a spring garden! Which is better, the dreaming of bushels of strawberries, bountiful salads, and abundant sweet peas; or the reality of the harvest that is quite good, but never quite as good as the dream? I suppose each has its delights in its season. Right now, I am feasting on the dreaming.