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Archive for the category “Zen Gardening Therapy”

12 Jun 2012

LOA Update #1

My original intent for my LOA was to blog every single day, but that hasn’t happened. Then I meant to post an update of week 1, but I was just too drunk to get to it. But now as I am in the midst of week 2, I feel I have enough to report. I promised myself I would stop thinking about work at the end of the work day on May 31. And I did. It happened easily as I focused on the next three months and all I hoped to accomplish within this expansive–yet somehow tiny–window of time.

Today has been what I hope a typical day will look like. Up by 7, a walk in this gorgeous summer weather and a short work out (don’t laugh, it wasn’t pretty). This won’t happen every morning, but if I shoot for it every morning, then I should accomplish it at least half of the time. After a quick brekkie, I hopped in the car and drove to one of my current favorite coffee shops/writing spots where I spent a few hours, working on the supernatural novel I wrote for NaNoWriMo in 2010. It’s fun and light and is a good counterpoint to working on the book about Ken’s and my journey over the last couple of years of his life–which has received the most amount of attention over the last week.

Chicago’s summer so far has been ah-MAH-zing with clear days ranging from the 70s-90s with little or no rain (unfortunately, as I would enjoy not watering the garden so copiously.) Speaking of the garden, my next destination after finishing up at the coffee shop was to head to Lowe’s to pick up some more seeds and a couple of hanging annuals for the garden. After that, I think I’m done and will just work on maintenance for the rest of the summer. The herbs I planted have taken hold and are growing like crazy. And the wild flower seeds I planted just a week ago are already sprouting through the dirt (or maybe it’s weeds. I have no idea.)

Being the complete master of my day and schedule feels incredibly freeing and heavy at the same time. Finding balance between productivity and fun (destination vs. journey, of course) has been an interesting exercise. It’s a feeling I hope everyone can experience at one time or another in their lives. There hasn’t been a day that I haven’t considered how lucky I am to work for a company and with people who have so much heart to allow me to abandon my duties for three months to focus on myself and my passion for writing. Last night I spent the evening working on the novel and even at 1 a.m. was positively giddy–just that I could be up so late writing.

I had some super sad dreams last night about Ken. I thought about him today as I left home, wishing he was sharing this journey with me. Both of us not working and spending all day writing and gardening and cooking would have been an ideal for him–as it has become for me. And though know he is, indeed, on this journey with me, but I’m still getting used to the context.

I love how beads of water cling so beautifully to the petals of these day lilies (?)

I thought I cut myself somehow, but realized I had been just “kissed” by one of the lilies.

I planted two new potted plants (can’t remember their names) and added the hanging baskets of petunias (?). I scattered California poppies over a barren part of the garden. Ken and I, along with our friend Rebecca, took a drive to the real California poppy fields north of LA years ago. Ken and I both had an affection for them since then, so I decided to re-add them to the backyard landscape after a couple-year absence. Likewise, in keeping with tradition, we used to have sunflowers every year–which were great because they attracted yellow and red finches (Ken’s ornithological expertise at work). I have many memories of sitting in the backyard with him, marveling at the finches–a nice change from the robins we normally saw.

As I planted the sunflower seeds in a hard-to-reach area in the corner of the garden, I noticed a wasp or hornet or 9 lb. flying demon hovering low around the garden–mostly over the moist areas I’d watered. I watched him closely and didn’t make my move to stoop in the secluded corner until it had flown away. While planting each seed, I caught a glimpse of its shadow zipping in and out of my periphery like a skilled specter. Then as it zoomed around me, criss-crossing like a kamikaze attack. It was then when I heard the shrill screams of the six-year-old girl who lives next door–then realized there is no six-year-old girl who lives next door. It was me! Screaming and running around eschewing anything that might have landed on my person, preparing to bury a stinger into my flesh. It was like a hilarious exercise class–though I was pretty much ready to move in the heat of the moment.

Final result with the two new hanging pots and newly planted pots at the end. The empty spots will fill in with wild flowers (I’m told.)

Posted in "New" Normal, Feelings, Humor, Ken, Leave of Absence, Memories, Moving Forward, Writing, Zen Gardening Therapy and tagged Feelings, Humor, Ken, Leave of Absence, Memories, Moving Forward, New Normal, Writing, Zen Gardening Therapy

05 Jun 2012

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Great Expanses & Blank Canvases

As I sat on my sofa Sunday night, peering forward at the three months of time I have to write and process and think about what parts of my life might need to be reconfigured, the excitement was palpable. And as I sat there soaking it up, I reveled in that I had something so boldly exciting to look forward to. It marks the beginning of something. I’m not exactly sure what…but something.

Though June 1 was my first official day of leave from work, it was a day dedicated to celebrating Ken’s life and legacy. It’s an odd coincidence that they took place on the same date–if you believe in coincidence, that is. It didn’t really feel like l was on leave until Monday morning, when I blissfully rolled out of bed at 9.

I’d walked out into our back yard on Sunday night to look up at the cloudless, starry sky. As I stood in what used to be Ken’s colorful, well-tended garden, a single lightening bug appeared and danced across the yard. I remembered how many times Ken and I had been in the back yard each year and witnessed this event, taking great pleasure in seeing these little harbingers of summer. I took it as a sign: my first day of leave would be spent getting the garden in shape.

I’ve had a love/hate relationship with the garden since Ken got sick and could no longer care for it. Gardening was totally and completely his thing. There was something too unpredictable about it that never appealed to me. Plus, it was just really hard work. I enjoyed the garden walks Ken would take me on, as he told me about the flora and in turn quizzed me on them. I rarely got a passing grade.

(For example, anyone know what these are called? I planted them last year and have no clue. Royal Something is all I can remember.)

(Yet I remember this is a hosta because it sounds like “hostile.”)

After he died, I felt an obligation to do maintain the garden. People kept asking me about it, knowing how much it meant to him. So, I weeded it and planted some “stuff” last year in addition to the perennials that were coming back already. Last summer I spent as much time back there at our table as I could, but it was–hard. In a place where Ken and I spent so much time together, surrounded by the stunning beauty and scents from the garden left me feeling a bit lonely and, frankly, embittered.

But each day as I passed through it from the parking pad to the back door, it served as a constant reminder that it was patiently waiting for me to work through my issues and get out there. And after seeing the lightening bug, I knew it was time. So Monday morning I headed to Lowes to buy the necessary accouterment, came home and got busy.

It was sunny, mild day–perfect for working outside. There was a breeze that kept me cool–though my literal red neck serves as a reminder as to just how sunny it was. I spent about six hours in total weeding and planting herbs. Garden or no garden, I have gotten used to growing herbs for use in cooking–thanks to Ken– because I’m certain it would never occurred to me to do so on my own. There is nothing more satisfying than going out and plucking fresh basil or thyme or rosemary from the plant.

It was a peaceful, wordless experience. It was just me, dirt and plants. It even pushed me to do some yard clean up and de-vine the side of the building from the neighbor’s encroacher. I was in my head, remembering our yearly garden and yard clean up in preparation for summer. In stark contrast to last year’s garden endeavor which felt more desperate, this year’s was more relaxed and a little more “for me.”

I’m not done, but–like me–my garden is prepped and ready for whatever comes next.

Before:

After:

Posted in "New" Normal, Feelings, Ken, Leave of Absence, Memories, Moving Forward, Zen Gardening Therapy and tagged Feelings, Ken, Leave of Absence, Memories, Moving Forward, New Normal, Zen Gardening Therapy

09 Jul 2011

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For Your Weeding Enjoyment…

I received a cheeky text from my friend Samara earlier this week that began “Ronny, Ronny, how does your garden grow…” to check in with me. But it presented a big, daunting question: how does my garden grow? After enjoying many hours with friends and family in recent weeks, sitting in the backyard, the answer was “it grows out of control with weeds.” Even the herbs, planted in pots looked a little singed after so many hot days and ne’ery a thought of watering them until I had a “holy sh*t!” moment. I couldn’t help but think of Ken and how lovingly tended to the garden when I was watering. And while working to figure out my new “normal”, my mind spun repeatedly, thinking about the garden.

So, this morning, I decided to take action. I armed myself with a do-rag (a la Ken) and these tools…

I began a three-hour weeding frenzy the likes of which my lower back and knees had never known. It was satisfying and cathartic. Yanking out deeply rooted interlopers proved to be a great release–almost enjoyable. I knew Ken would be proud–and most like dumbfounded–by my single-minded drive to eradicate anything that didn’t belong there. I’m certain my amateurish eye to all things green pulled out beauties that belonged, but I’m even more certain that anything that didn’t belong was abruptly dislodged and tossed, limp and lifeless, onto the hot sidewalk until I bagged up all the refuse and put it by the garbage.

In my mind’s eye this garden is Ken’s–as it always has been. He planned, tended and cultivated it year after year. But there came a point during my work today, eyes stinging from the sweat streaming into them, that I began to consider thinking of this garden as my own. It’s a thought that hadn’t ever really occurred to me before. But perhaps like my recent affinity with cooking (another Ken specialty) that I might take an interest in gardening. Nothing ambitious to start with. But I have a lot of blank soil to fill in, and even I find it a little hard to believe that I’m kind of excited about going to Home Depot to see what might catch my fancy.

This project was enjoyable in a few ways. Most obviously, it’s good to be busy and productive no matter where you are in your life. Secondly, it’s a meaningful way to connect with Ken, honor him and the home we made. And last but not least, growing pretty things is just cool–as is growing herbs that I love to cook with. Did I love the hellish alien creatures that were dislodged from their dark and cool hiding places? No. Do I think they are going to collaborate and stage an invasion of my bedroom while I sleep in order to kill me? Most likely. Did I entertain elaborate snake scenarios? Definitely. Will I look at purchasing venom-proof gardening gloves? Hellz yes!

It will take some time to get into the mindset and rhythm of caring for my garden, but I’ll take today as a superb victory. As I sit here in the backyard typing this blog, I feel a sense of satisfaction that I’m certain Ken felt often, but for me it’s new. I feel like I earned the right to sit back here and look around in the twilight at my plants. I feel proud.

Here is the proof that all you haters have all been waiting for.

Before…