Zen and the Art of Gardening Maintenance
In all my terry-ness, I water the garden and zone out–every time. It’s not a pointless task–it’s now necessary as it has not rained (trust me, I’m not complaining) since our onslaught in early spring. I do come out of my reverie occasionally to contemplate particular perennials and their water requirements: who hates wet feet, who can’t stand a wet head.
On this particular day, the traffic is stacking up for the evening rush to the boardwalk and as I am close to the road, I can hear conversations through the twenty-foot high Eastern Red Cedar sound barrier. One guy is singing loudly to Billy Joel’s My Life, and I’m quite certain he believes he sounds pretty damn good. Why not? The weather is Fine, the sun is shining, and he’s probably on vacation. Another woman is speaking quite loudly on her cell phone as though the receiving party were deaf or daft.
And here I am holding the garden hose in bare feet, in perfect 78 degree weather, two weeks away from the end of the school term, on a Thursday evening, and I hear another driver yell, “JEEZUS F**KING CHRIST CAN’T YOU F**KING DRIVE?!”
This snaps me out of my daydream, and I just think: Ah, summer’s finally here!
© Teresita Abad Doebley. All rights reserved 2009-2011.