I have the tiniest garden which I nurture as much as I can. Amusingly, it’s been somewhat of an extension of myself – in hindsight.
I can’t remember whether I was already ill when I decided to clean it up and have the tall bushes under my window pulled out. They seemed strong but really, it was a tired, messy patch which felt stale to me and I was determined to start over and clean the air.
Starting the change
Armed with advice from my green-fingered friend, I planted some seeds which blossomed into happier-looking ground cover. The seasons changed and they died down into tired tumbleweeds. The hardier Lavender seemed to be hanging in there. The Yesterday Today & Tomorrow bush that I planted is still the same size as the day I planted it. Bless it, it tries! It offers a few flowers to let me know it’s okay so it’s not unhappy, just waiting – for what, I don’t know but I’ll keep an eye on it.
My trusty Gardenia with its strong waxy leaves was attacked by aphids. I had to trim it down drastically at one point and noticed that, at the same time, how I was battling with my medication. It grew again but hasn’t quite fully recovered. I’m nurturing it with concoctions to keep the bugs at bay.
False hope and disappointments
The soil’s been tired so with composting, I’m hoping it’s improved. Whenever I had the energy and the subsequent time to recover, I’d spend an early weekend morning weeding the beds. I got an influx of sprouting leaves. I left them for a season to discover that they were some kind of dwarf bamboo grass. It thrived in the humidity so that must’ve been about a year ago. Since then, weeding has included eradicating the stuff and replacing the space with other groundcover plants. No seeds sprouted. No chemo yielded improvement.
Adjust and carry on
Now I have Begonias donated by Mom from her garden which are thriving and helping to hold the soil’s nutrients in place. Since I decided to stand up and ask for help from a different oncologist, my headspace has improved.
I’ve done a lot of work internally on myself which I haven’t figured out how to put in writing and perhaps never will. What I started at the beginning of this journey was unintentional. If I’d known what lay ahead, I wouldn’t have started. My evolution is something I’m happy to simply watch unfold for now.
I lay awake toward the end of what’d been a particularly bad migraine day recently and looked out of my window to the Hibiscus tree at the left and the other Hibiscus bush to the right. Both were so overgrown and what I saw was that they were growing towards each other as if to envelop me in a protective cocoon from the world. It didn’t feel threatening but it was enough now. I didn’t need it any more. Something was changing. The next day, I made plans to have them trimmed down to open up the area. The same day, I picked up my own sword to fight on again.
This last weekend, I spent two consecutive mornings in the garden – each time for two hours. I didn’t exactly have the energy to run a race afterwards but I didn’t collapse in a heap either or need much sleeping rest to recuperate. The garden’s looking up and despite what the monkeys do to my (apparently edible) Petunias, nature goes on thriving day in and day out. If I can keep on keeping on with just the next baby step and then the next, I too, can go on more purposefully season in and season out.