Doldrums

Today is a gloomy day. There have been a great many gloomy days lately, as mother nature rained down on us all spring long, bringing life to plants but also death to plans.  Now it is finally summer, and one would think those gloomy days are past, yet here we are.  As I type I hear the pitter patter of rain against the steel door and am reminded that I am depressed.

Only vaguely, the way I get when the weather is poor or during the winter when I haven’t seen the sun in days.  I can’t stand those times, the grayness seeping into my skin and making me shiver.  I write but I don’t want to, as is often the case on these gray days, when all I really want to do is curl up in bed with a book or lie on the sofa and watch television.  Today I am pushing myself to be happy, as M is here for a few days and I am determined to keep a smile on my face for him.  I am so proud of him right now, for personal reasons, but let it be known that he is an amazing and wonderful young man and I can’t wait to see the future that lies ahead of him.  But I don’t want to be sad around him.  So, this morning when I felt the world getting on top of me, I offered him a PlayStation remote and went out for a walk to clear my head. 

I passed a lot of gardens, as my street has several front lawns blooming with all sorts of plants.  I considered taking pictures, but the owners of these gardens likely would have objected to me traipsing around and photographing their hard work.  I heard a lot of birds, and lawnmowers.  I saw people on their way to work and school.  I saw garbage men filling up their truck.  I saw two ducks just hanging out on McKinley Pkwy.  I got some spell energy from a greenhouse on Wizards Unite.  I felt better.

I personally cannot wait until mid-July, when we head out on our first ever family camping trip.  Spending time outside always makes me feel better, and to spend three days with nothing but nature is something I am really looking forward to.  There’s still a ton of planning to be done and I am going to have to piece together supplies from various people, but I can’t wait to spend time with my parents, Mark and the kiddos out in nature.  Something about it takes away the doldrums, even if it were to rain on our little trip.  At least we would be together and could keep one another entertained. 

The drizzle is letting up, and the sun keeps daring to make an appearance, but no matter the weather I will try to keep a smile on my face, and look for the little gifts that the world has given me to get me by in the meantime.  Like gardens, and ducks, and the smell of air after the rain.   That’s enough to keep me going, today.

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Once upon a time, I lived in an apartment I refer to as The Dump.  We lived there for about two years and anything that you could imagine was wrong with it absolutely was.  The one little shiny spot however was that behind the garage there was a vacant lot.  This left plenty of room for our dog Buddy to play, and, after clearing away some of the brush, it occured to me one sunny afternoon that it would make a lovely garden as well.  So, I went out and got some 2x4s and built a little vegetable patch.  That summer, as Buddy raced around me, I grew squash, peas, beans, cucumbers, and strawberries.  I had never showed any interest as a child when it came to helping my mother with her garden, and it surprised me how much I enjoyed turning seeds into food.  I had always assumed gardening was not for me, and only started my veggie patch because I was out of work and needed something to do. 

I have the ability to grow food at this house, but haven’t tried it yet.  My neighbors are planting a few things and have promised to share the crop.  What I do now is tend the front garden, where I am growing purple salvia and bright pink peonies the size of a baby’s head.  Last week I rescued a dying gloriosa daisy and soon it will grow alongside them. 

Then, there’s my indoor garden, which I love the most, especially in winter when I’m dying to see something green.  First there’s my spider plant, who came to me in a tiny milk carton from an actress friend and now is a huge hanging pot with dozens of babies dangling from it.  There were more, but I gave one to each of my aunts, uncles, and cousins as Christmas gifts and still it continues to grow.  There’s my aloe plant, given to me after a show in a tiny painted pot, which massively overgrew it and now takes up most of the table.  I have a shamrock and superbells from my mother (the latter should really be put outside but I love looking at them every day.)  I have a pansy and geranium mix that I just bought, and a dieffenbachia I got for my birthday, along with an unidentified little pot of purple flowers.  There are poppies I’m trying to grow, and a spider plant baby that I hope will some day match its mama.

I remember being a child in my grandmother’s garden.  She grew roses for each grandchild; mine was peach-colored.  She had raspberry bushes and would let me pick them.  I think that was probably my first look at gardening.  In youth I didn’t think much of it, but as I have gotten older I appreciate it more and more.  I find solace and peace in the garden, and often have wonderful story ideas or surprising mental breakthroughs when my hands are deep in the warm soil.  It has become a therapeutic tool for me, and one that I never thought I would be using.  When I’m in my garden I’m thinking of my gram, and my mom, and all the wonderful bits of nature that I get to experience in those instances.  It quite literally brings me back to earth.

I need a bigger table.