We have been busy with other matters this past while, the weather has been unpleasant and we have been ill these last few days so there has been no time in the garden. Yesterday, on the brink of cabin fever, I went to the garden for a few hours. It was a very gentle few hours, a bit of “tipping around” as my father used describe it, no big jobs or heavy work, just enough to get out of the house for a short while and to reconnect with the garden, to see what was growing there, a time to assess what needed to be done when the opportunity presented itself rather than an attempt to get anything significant accomplished.
There was only one job that I wished to complete when I went out and that was to cut back the foliage of a hellebore because it was lying over a clump of emerging snowdrops – a quick task which took all of five minutes – but gardeners will be aware of how one thing leads to another; how there is another plant which needs to be cut back, a little debris to be cleared; leaves to be swept off a path; a few weeds here and there and how the time passes unnoticed and pleasantly; how one gets lost for a while and how, even in the depths of winter, the garden is a place of the greatest pleasure and where we best like to be.
Three hours passed by unheeded and … what had I done? Nothing, really. A bit of this and a bit of that. It was simply a case of being in the garden, of doing a little bit, of being pleasantly occupied, of enjoying the little things one comes across. I was simply gardening – very vaguely gardening…and enjoying it.
There are always little things to enjoy in the garden and, even in the middle of winter, it is a pleasant place to be.