fiwit's blog: It is well with my soul....

I'm stealing a bit from our own Sharon Brown...she said this in a blog post recently, and it really spoke to me the first time I read it, and again tonight:

I think maybe as gardeners we have something inside us that can only be content when we are right in the middle of the soil, right there to see which little critter is scattering pollen, right there to sing along with the birds. And when that pattern is abruptly disturbed, when we don't get our dirt laden fix, our souls become irritable, disturbed.

As I was thinking, a long ago hymn from my childhood made its way to my thoughts and now it's embedded there at least for the duration of this day.

"When peace, like a river, attendeth my way, When sorrows like sea billows roll; Whatever my lot, Thou has taught me to say, It is well, it is well, with my soul."

My best guess is that to us, gardening makes it well with our souls.

It's been a long two months. We had some unexpected changes at work, followed by the sudden acceleration of a project I was helping with, and I quickly found myself losing my work-life balance.  I treasure that fine line I walk between giving my all to my employer, and giving my all to my every day life. I've learned through the years that I need to take care of me in order to take care of my job. But I've also learned that sometimes you have to take care of the project, and other things become secondary. The trick is to not let other things become SO secondary that you forget they exist, and become subsumed in the work projects. That's a clear road to burn-out, and it's a path I know well from previous travels.

So I watched myself, and carved out time for myself where I could, and made sure I did things that nurture me.  But there was no yard time, for most of these last two months.  Mornings were not spent drinking coffee on the back porch, listening to the Carolina Wrens alternately scolding and singing. Evenings were not spent wandering the yard, visiting the new growth, cheering on the late bloomers, making plans for new projects. Instead, I drank my coffee at my computer, sending work emails 2 hours before my work day officially started, or seven hours after it officially ended.  I endured it, because I knew it was short term, and I knew it was important.

That project is successfully completed, thank goodness, and I now find myself wondering how to fill some of the hours in my work day - haven't wondered about *that* in over two months, believe me.  And this week, for the first time since early July, I've had "yard time" again.  And just in time.

Last weekend, both my daylily clubs held their annual get-together where the members take all the points they've accrued by attending meetings, helping with shows, plant sales, etc, and use them to "buy" daylilies.  Between the 2 dozen I carried home from those 2 galas, and the ones I had bought at sales in early June and planted in pots for safekeeping, I had almost four dozen daylilies that needed a new home before winter. And another half dozen that were given to me when a friend was cleaning out their seedling bed.

September in GA has been beautiful this year, so it's been easy for me to head outside after work and reclaim some space between a few trees that was originally intended for planting.  I had this past Friday off as a comp day for some of the long hours I put in during the project, and had intended to run to the mountains and spend some time with my favorite waterfall, but decided I'd rather stay home and play in the dirt. 

I honestly did not know how much I needed that time spent raking bags of soil conditioner and potting soil over layers of cardboard and newspaper; how much my hands had been craving the touch of the soil.  But I know this -- the hours I spent in this new bed yesterday and today, finishing the prep-work and then rehoming the daylilies, restored my soul in ways that are beyond description.  It was a purely solitary affair, other than waving at neighbors driving by, or chatting with the big box store clerk as she rang up yet another purchase of bagged goodies for the plant bed.  Final count is in the neighborhood of 60 total bags of potting soil/soil conditioner/compost that I shoved into my little PT Cruiser and toted home, driving into my yard and right over to the new bed to minimize the distance I'd have to lug the bags.

Honest toil, leaving me dripping with sweat, and with visible results for my efforts, that brought peace to my soul even as it made unused muscles protest.  This is not the final home for these plants -- this was just "get them in the ground before winter" planting.  I still need to research them and rearrange the bed to provide the most beauty for myself and my neighbors. Tomorrow, I'll line the outside edge of the bed with spring bulbs, add more nutrients to make the worms happy, and top it with mulch.  Next weekend, or maybe later this week, I'll transfer some other plants from pots to in-ground locations, or re-pot the house plants before bringing them inside for the winter.  But for now, this will suffice until I'm again craving the feel of soil on my skin.

And in five or six months, the soul-work I did this weekend will feed my soul again, as first the spring bulbs and then the daylilies begin their display of beauty that is unmatched by anything made by man.

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