It has been a really good day, relatively speaking, so I’m taking note. Pain has been low level, I had a little energy, got out of the house, and planted the last of my pots. (Pictured above, starting at the top and clockwise: African daisy, licorice, calibrachoa, and decorative oregano with a dracaena spike in the middle.)
Being outside, getting my hands dirty, is like therapy for me. Working with flowers keeps me present. Pulling some weeds and trimming off dead flowers and foliage gives me a sense of satisfaction. I choose plants that make me smile.
Gardening became an interest by default. Raising two little boys, mischievous and smart, meant spending hours outside, weather permitting. When they went out, so did I. Every once in a while, I’d try to let them go out to play unsupervised, but they invariably confirmed that they did require fairly constant attention. Two other homes on our block also had two young boys each, so the six of them were quite the little whirlwind of activity.
My husband and I learned about landscaping by trial and error over the years, but it wasn’t until I worked in a garden center that I began to learn more and really upped my planting. Herbs grown over the summer are dried and used all year. We’ll have fresh chili peppers, tomatoes, and zucchini. Bright flowers in pots and beds decorate the length of the deck and corners of the yard.
Today reminded me that there are beautiful summer days ahead and assured me that I will be enjoying them. I’m tired now, but in a good way. I hope I’m emerging from a bad flare up of my fibromyalgia, but right now I’m just going to be thankful for this day.
