Gardening Is My Therapy

Gardening Is My Therapy

Spring to me means rebirth and gardening. Today was my first time working in my garden this spring.  The sun was shining and only a light sweatshirt was needed. Despite injuring my right shoulder on Thursday injudiciously hoisting trash, wrist trauma and bilateral knee stiffness, the soil called to me like the sirens pulled Odysseus into their lairs.  It was time to plant lettuce, spinach and red cabbage!

First stop, Lowes, to stock up on some much needed “organic matter” which is affectionately known as poop in our house to enhance the soil depleted by last summer’s tomato crop and four all greens. The smell of mulch filled the air. Few things are more fragrant in spring than piles of mulch. But alas, mulch must wait for future weekends. And there will be numerous loads of mulch to spread. But, I digress.

Our favorite local nursery is across the road from Lowes. So we headed over to Weber’s and filled the truck with romaine, butter lettuce, red leaf, mixed leaf, arugula, spinach, New Zealand spinach, and red cabbage.

Before planting we removed half the soil from the planting boxes, loosened the remaining dirt, mixed in some 10-10-10 fertilizer, our bags of vitamin enriched poop and the soil we’d removed, turned it and raked it.  Then it was time to remove the gloves.

I cannot plant while wearing gloves. I need to feel the soil while lovingly placing my plants into the ground. With the soil loosened and infused it is easy to manipulate with my hands. There is something life affirming and centering for me to work in the soil.  It clears my mind. It is hard work, but after spending a day gardening I feel as if I’ve truly accomplished something valuable. And the reciprocation I receive, with time and patience, is the beauty of the plant as it grows and rewards me with food or beauty or a sumptuous aroma.