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The blames her for leaving. I make more distribution visits in the early mornings and late afternoons. Make the most of the longer days by trying to catch up with a slower start. It’s a happy way to end my work day. Although I am there to make up for the impending absence.
By the time you read this, we will be in the middle of a family vacation. My daughter Rada’s big birthday is an occasion for a gathering at the seaside.
Yes, I know the seedlings will survive – even thrive – with Howard (hopefully) around. And, of course, there is irrationality in much of my anxiety about leaving seedlings alone. But somehow the abandonment and fear of it is written in my bones.
I think I learned to love from the seeds, I once wrote. And it’s still true that gardening doubles as a no-talk therapy that comes with peace of mind, flowers and food.
Fortunately, our purple-flowered broad beans are speckled with green leaves and pods are just days away. I have hopes that the recently screened peas have taken over and our climbing French beans are now nestled at the base of each post.
I finally gave up psychotherapy because the benefits too often seemed too far away. But nurturing non-verbal gardening will hopefully stay with me forever.
So I paid my visits, whispering encouragement to the seedlings. Weeding and watering, feeding food plants and flowers. Protection against predators.
There are rows of young lettuce leaves. Trailing nasturtiums are in front of a cascade. Our transplanted sweet pea is ready to climb. And Howard’s delusion had made a happy home in the bank. There will be bees and homemade forage. Maybe he wouldn’t mind sending me an occasional photo of an allotment.
But now what do you miss most about where you grew up when you’re not around?
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