I got poison ivy the other day. I’m highly susceptible and usually try to carefully avoid it. But there they are, the ugly red welts on my left wrist, above where the cuff of my garden gloves end. They itch, but I know not to scratch. I’ll treat them as best I can, and I understand that if I prevent their spread, eventually they will fade away. I just have to be patient.
Patience, however, is not a natural state for me. Culturally, we Americans are an impatient people. As part of the Baby-Boomer generation, I am not predisposed to wait for things, having been raised on television, where problems are typically resolved in a half-hour or hour. Biologically or genetically it would be safe to say that patience is not part of my DNA. My mother is one of the least patient people I know. We joke about it, but occasionally I get concerned when she tries to do something by herself when she should wait for help. “Hold on, Patience,” I joke. “Let me help you with that.”
But if my garden occasionally injures me, it also helps to teach me to be more patient. I’ve learned to wait for things to happen in their own time. Of course I’m impatient to get things started in the spring. I planted the tomatoes early and then had to protect them from frost this year. I’m eager to see the peonies bloom, because they get things started. After that, it’s best to bide your time and go with the flow. After all, when the mums start to bloom, it’s almost over, and I’m not a big fan of winter.
I do look forward to the unmatched taste of homegrown tomatoes and lettuce fresh from the garden. It’s nice to be able to add fresh herbs to whatever is cooking. These are highly practical purposes for a garden. It’s also nice to sit down with a cold beverage and just contemplate the natural beauty of the flowers. A friend of mine refers to his “Tranquillity Zone” and I know just what he means. Thankfully, I’ve learned how to sit down and do nothing once in a while.
But even as I sit, the weeds taunt me. Another friend and fellow gardener once told me that a weed is just a flower in the wrong place. It’s true, and I’m sure there’s a lesson in there somewhere, but just let me wander over and pluck that dandelion before it goes to seed. You see, the purpose of most hobbies is to keep you engaged in doing something. Gardening is a great hobby, because there’s always something to do, even if it’s sitting there just enjoying the view.
Another hobby of mine is writing. I don’t think I have all of the answers, but once in a while I feel the need to write things down in order to help me sort out my own feelings on whatever subject crosses my mind that day. I’m sure that I’ve annoyed people with my views. Others have let me know that they like what I’ve written. That makes me happy. It’s also good to keep in practice. What’s really nice is if you can turn your hobby into something that pays the bills. While I doubt that there’s much of a chance of me becoming a farmer, despite my love of growing things, I’d love to write a bestseller. Everything I’ve ever read by famous authors tells aspiring writers to be both persistent and patient. It takes time. Anything that is worthwhile usually does.
But for now I’ll just keep plugging away, hopefully some of you find this entertaining. If I’ve annoyed you, I apologize. If I presented a view that you hadn’t contemplated before that’s a good thing. Personally, I think that we need to change the way things work, or don’t work, in our country. But we’ll probably have to wait until things get worse before we decide to make them better. But for now I think I’ll get cleaned up, run some errands and finish up my work for the day. It will soon be time to mix a cocktail and head out to enjoy the peaceful bliss in the garden. I just have to be patient.
GOOD PLANT (hibiscus)
BAD PLANT (poison ivy)
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