As I have mentioned in a previous blog, the recent hail storm almost wiped out my entire garden in a five minute fell swoop. It is very discouraging after all the hard work of planting and weeding and preparing the soil. The sore back and stiff butt coming from physical labor that you haven’t done since last year (well that’s just my pathetic little experience). We’ve had watering restrictions for the last month and so saving water from showers and rain to water plants has become my MO. It’s much more work. I felt like I was Laura Ingalls from Little House on the Prairie, going to the well everyday to lug water back for the animals and the farm. But I did it because I spent too much money on my dream secret garden, once again, to just watch it die. It’s my summer project. And has been for many summers. I needed it. It’s my emotional crutch and therapy all in one. Then to have it almost entirely wiped out? And there is nothing much one can do about it. We can’t control the weather. I mean I guess I could just give up and never plant a garden ever again. Because it can be emotionally exhausting. And physically exhausting. Did I mention expensive? Gardening is not for wimps. But, oh the joys.
The south side of the barn in our backyard was protected from the hail so I still have one barn wall of prolific green growth that’s thriving. So I will focus on that. I am going to replant a few things and move a few things around to fill in the dead gaps. I will cut some things back to see if they will grow again. I’ll keep watering and weeding and running out every morning to see what’s happening. I’ve deadheaded all the dead heads. I bought a couple more rose bushes to fill in the spaces. Perennials not annuals. And I will not give up.
Just as a second stroke almost took me out at the end of May. Well, it didn’t almost take me out but it did undo much of the emotional and mental work I had done over the last two years. Strokes play with your mind. Your fears. Your health. Your well being. Your confidence. Because strokes are scary even when they are minor. I am totally grateful that this one was not as bad as the first, but I had just put to bed all those fears. And decided that the first stroke was ancient history and I was moving forward with confidence and health. And then wham! I’m driving down a one way street the wrong way because I had lost my right peripheral vision. It came back in a few hours but not until I’d had another ambulance ride to the hospital and an overnight stay and another MRI and another CT scan and evidence of more brain damage. They wouldn’t let me drive for a month. Why? because they thought I might have another? and kill someone? Not a confidence builder.
But I can’t live there. I can’t live in fear. So I must pick myself up and replant a few things. Dead head a few things. Keep watering and weeding. And keep doing what has to be done to optimize my health. Physical and mental. It’s like I was on the south side of the barn. The darn thing kinda missed the best part of me. Thank you Lord. I still have much to be grateful for.
The Red Plaid Apron 