gilian's gardens

 

One of the most frequently asked questions I heard during the years I was in college was, "How do you do it all?"  This was usually accompanied by a list of all of the things I was doing at the time--cooking, cleaning, shopping, working full time, caring for a gramma, worrying over a sick child/spouse/parent...etc. AND going to college full time.

I don't remember having any specific answer to that question.  Or anything particularly profound to say in response to the "I don't know how you do it all" comment I frequently heard. 

I think my response was usually something like, I just do what I do...or I don't do anything more than anybody else does.

And I believe that.  We all live busy, busy lives.

Now that I don't have homework constantly lurking in the back of my mind, I've had to relearn how to relax.

Wait.  That is completely untrue.  A big, fat falsehood.

What I'm going to have to relearn is how to get stuff done again.  I've fallen into this mindset that says I can surf the web for hours.  Because I don't have any homework.  I can read books--not textbooks, but actual reading-for-pleasure books--for hours at a time because I don't have any homework.  I can dream about moving plants around in the gardens--because I don't have any homework. 

The problem I have right now is not one of inability to relax.  It is one of not remembering how to complete anything.  Or start anything actually.  I wander from one room to another, inside and outside, gazing about, imagining projects--BUT NOT ACTUALLY STARTING ANY OF THEM. 

I've gone from the peak of completion mountain to the valley of slackerville.

Maybe that's a bit harsh.  On the one hand, I have been cooking actual meals more frequently. 

On the other hand, I've only managed to wash, dry, fold, and put away the weekly two loads of laundry in one day a couple of times in the past two months.  More often, the laundry is in some state of incompletion--some in the washer, some in the dryer, some folded, some piled on top of the dryer, some that needs to be rewashed.  Jack actually had to go searching for socks in the laundry room this morning--and somehow, I was able to stay in my rocker, lazily gesturing toward the basket of clean white clothes by the dryer.  The old Gilian would have been up, dashing madly to find socks for him, apologizing while ensuring the balance of the socks were properly stowed in their place in his drawers.  Not so much anymore. 

A few days ago, Jack and I were discussing the purchase of a tree or two.  What size, what color, what variety, where to plant to best shade the front of the house to reduce the temperature in the front rooms.  While wandering around the front yard, Jack mentioned that the gardens are getting a bit overgrown.  Perhaps a bit jungle-y.  (That is what I heard, maybe not a word he actually used.)  So I've been thinking about the jungle-istic nature of my gardens.

  I can kind of see Jack's point.

But they're mostly my babies, now that my kids are grown, and I was never any good at pruning or thinning, which is the main reason why I didn't grow carrots.  You've got to be willing to thin if you want carrots.  So, no carrots in my gardens, except for the one time I tried to grow them and ended up with teensy, tiny one-half bite carrots.  Tasty, but not very filling...

 

I did spend a week or so, powerwashing gramma's metal table and my new metal yardsail finds, then priming, and finally spray painting them.  A lovely squash blossom yellow and a delightful ocean blue.

So there's that.

So maybe that's it.  Life post-school is good, the living is easy. 

Maybe I'll actually move a few plants, or maybe I'll simply consider how much I kinda like having gardens that resemble a floral jungle.