I've typed, erased and retyped this first line several times and even more in my head before the words even made it through my fingers to the keyboard. It's true what they say, the first step is always the hardest.
The child who started me on this path for the love of a yellow tomato plant, the fruit of which he would never eat, has gone off to college. My father, the ultimate Continental and artist has passed and I haven't had a viable garden in at least 7 or 8 years. The woods to the west thickened up, theneighbor's leelands block the sun from the left, my husband put it an above ground pool and deck which took some square feet and way led on to way to where there was no yield worth mentioning. We cleared the boxes, installed a shed and that, my friends, was that. It was all over before I ever made the concious decision to stop gardeing.
And I miss it.
This year I truly tried to reclaim some of the joy I felt in bringing in baskets of fresh vegetables and even missed the hives playing in the beans would cause. I missed my daughter calling the bees olives and her finding the hornworms with her perfect vantage point beneath the leaves. I missed the feeling of pride and purpose gardening gave me.
I tried six grow bags on the pool deck, but those failed miserably. The sun was only good until the woods filled in and now there hasn't been sun there in months. I also put two waist height raised beds in the other corner of the pool deck. Those saw moderate success with some tomatoes and peppers, but nothing compared to what I was used to or expecting. It's all out there quite a mess now. I need to clean it up, but doing so reminds me how much I didn't achieve.
I never forgot about the blog. Sometimes I'll pull it up to show people the pictures of the train my father drew or show what my garden used to be like to people who feign interest. I read over a few entries just now and I hardly recognize myself. The words seem to flow with a certain purpose and tick and now I can't maintain a coherent stream and delete more words than I leave in place. Perhaps that is age. Perhaps it is just being out of practice.
I've visited the other blogs I used to follow and see that many haven't posted, themselves, in just about as long. I suppose that's the nature of it. We find a hobby, barrel into it neck deep, stay for a bit, pack up and move on. Then I saw some have passed and years ago at that. May their memories always be a blessing.
Towards the end of this blog's lifespan, I seem to have branched out into other hobbies besides gardening. I see the keychains and the captured word pieces, both of which I still do. I don't keep up the blog for the keychains anymore, but there are still people who ask if I can make one here and there and it's always nice. I haven't read in a while, which is interesting. I could read hours on end and often into the early morning hours without thought. Now I've joined the ranks of my students. If I can't digest it in a thirty second blip, then it loses my attention.
I have taken to knitting. And I am pleased. It's something I've always wanted to learn. A colleague and I decided to quit saying we wanted to do something and just do it. So, we put our purses down, took our press on nails off and started learning. You can learn anything on YouTube. Now, I'm a knitter. Not a fabulous one, but I can do it. I've also started fish keeping which I love and now mind several houseplants, but there's that same sun factor when it comes to them thriving.
So, I really don't know what will become of this. Perhaps I'll keep on. It's more likely that I won't. If I do, we'll look at this as the new begning. If not, it's the closure I needed.
There is one thing, however, that ten years cannot erase.
The morning still comes early. Sweet gardening dreams.
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