The days are warming up, a sure sign that summer is approaching its peak. Around this time, everything starts to slow down and pick up at once. One particularly warm day, I stopped to chat with a fellow Garden Rebel. I internally questioned her life choices as she came out into the nursery on the hottest part of the day, wearing a smile. Externally, I asked what her mission was, assuming that anyone daring to venture from their air conditioning was clearly on a desperate task. Her response was simply, “I always come here when I need to lower my blood pressure!”
I had to laugh to myself; there I was, uncomfortably drowning in sweat, using my last burst of energy to frantically clean a corner of the nursery that was not really half shaded. My nerves were frayed, having just finished quite the battle of wills with my daughter. She was on her third outfit of the day, half of my displays had been re-displayed, and to top it all off, the large green tomato we had been watching grow was found picked with a suspicious bite taken out of it. All of the chaos and time at The Garden Corner had only encouraged my blood pressure to skyrocket.
Sure, I know that technically on a scientific level there are many benefits to gardening. It is supposed to make you healthier; however, my back disagrees. The endorphin rush from working has not quite outweighed the discomfort recently. I am tired of weeding and pruning and watering. It is hot. My creative juices are not quite flowing; everything is slowing down in the sluggish temperatures. The cost of gardening at this point is simply too much. While I once considered myself a low-maintenance gardener, this heat has me looking for such a thing as no-maintenance gardening. At the end of the day, I am ready to give up!
When I have finally finished with work for the day, I head home to tend to my own garden. I sit in the car a/c, dreading the moment I have to make my body drag out the hose to water everything. This year has been disheartening. My heliotrope in particular, usually a dependable showstopper, has been borderline embarrassing. The plant has been cut back three times. First, it was overwatered. Then, after fixing the problem, the plant was underwatered, causing the leaves to burn. Bugs, birds, and overcorrective pruning all left the plant looking less desperate. Not once have I been able to coax out a round of blooms.
I had planned on tearing it out and secretly replacing it in the dark of night so my neighbors would not know of my failure. I work with plants, and yet fail to be able to keep my own plants happy. I was ready to rip everything out the second it took the next turn.
Then, on perhaps the hottest evening, as I exited my car with a reluctant groan, a hummingbird blew past my head. Like a sign from beyond, my heliotrope had bloomed with what can only be described as the strength of a buzzer-beater rebound. My husband came to collect my sleeping child from her car seat and take her inside. I turned on the water. Then, I grabbed my pruners. I told myself I would just trim the bare minimum. I started with the dahlias, then the salvia; my geraniums looked better, and armeria blooms quicker without the old blooms.
Soon, I got a text from my husband asking if I was going to come inside. I had gotten so carried away admiring my blooming perennials and silently pinching and fixing the things in my yard that I had lost track of time. All the plants I had carefully selected in years past were starting to reappear and perform in masses.
Taking a step back, for the first time all day, I was able to take a deep breath. Still drenched in sweat, and now covered in dirt. Maybe there was a little something to hard work, literal tears, and a small sense of accomplishment. Even after all this time, while I was wilting down in the heat, my garden was just preparing a grand show. Because sometimes, much to our distaste, a little extra warm sunshine can truly bring out all the best that the garden has to offer.
