Morning fog and remnants of rain from the night greeted my sleepy eyes as I peeked out the window, as I do every morning. The force that pulls me to the garden was strong, as I find after a good rain, before the sky has cleared, just as the mornings of golden light speckling the earth fill me with the most simplistic happiness and warmth.
There are still signs of a fading spring, but the undeniable growth of summer is even more prominent now. It’s a sad state to say goodbye to a spring never to return, but knowing that another will inevitably follow in the year to come. By this time each year in the garden, I’m nearly overwhelmed by the anxiety of being behind in vegetable growth. When did I plant? Did I start soon enough? Why aren’t there more tomatoes growing yet? It’s an inevitable stress that follows me through the gardening seasons, and I urge myself back to calm, to remember that things grow in their own time. The obvious bromide to give into.
Despite urgings to stay inside where its warm and dry, I was accompanied by my two little girls, who have come to love traipsing through the gardens nearly as much as I. I wonder how they see it through their eyes, from their lower, more innocent perspectives. Then, distraction pulls the thoughts from my mind and I’m wholly present again. If ever there was a wonder why one succumbs to the whims of gardening, it’s safe to say that clarity of mind is a drug of its own.