Gardening and the Horrid Beast

Spring came early this year, a somewhat rare occurrence that I met with a happy sigh. Now high summer, the gardens and woodlands have exploded with abundance. The whole operation is a month ahead of schedule and it’s almost impossible to imagine it in winter, barren and frozen under eight feet of snow.

I often find writing a challenge this time of year unless it’s gloomy. Happens. But summer, short as it is here, has an almost otherworldly feel. All I want to do is smell flowers, pluck weeds, watch hummingbirds and practice sun worship. My computer could’ve been put on my desk by extraterrestrials for all I care about it.

Like an old hippie earth mother, I have detailed conversations with plants, cats and earthworms. The bugbane got a serious talking to for hogging out the coneflowers and nasturtiums (this involved clippers). I move carefully around the apple tree to elude the Shelob spiders. And I listen to things grow.

And this assortment of branches from said apple tree? That’s my decorative solution to the machinations of my cat Hemlock, who decided the spot between the carrots and the spinach makes a good pee hole. Gardens and woods everywhere, and she has to use my new raised bed for her business. This gained her the informal title of WTF You Horrid Beast.