(If you want to hear Lori read the story click)here

 

This is not an original idea, but it still feels scary. Compound that with the reactions I get from people who know how much time I spend in front of a sewing machine.

 

"Gardening? Really? Are you sure?" This is not the response I am looking for. I want unabashed encouragement, back slapping confidence transferred through the laying on of hands. 

 

Yesterday I got dirty. I went out to my long neglected yard to introduce myself, and to apologize for past sins. I pulled at vines, and yanked up withered tendrils. After an hour or two I slumped down on a pile of leaves. 

 

"This is hopeless. I don't really know what to do first. The clippers are hiding somewhere in the basement under the clutter, the wheelbarrow has a flat tire, and the hedge cutters are rusty." Just as I was about to quit the twins came rolling around the corner with the wheelbarrow.

 

The comparison with marriage work is blatant enough. Problems in a relationship are as tenacious as any pachysandra. I am aware that one slice of my motivation in taking on vegetables is getting a visceral experience with what couples face in growing a marriage. The metaphor is working. All the cliches about "I want to give up" and "No one would want to help me" are already echoing in the vacuum of my brain where botanical knowledge was supposed to be stored.

 

But if I really believe that a marriage can be brought back from frozen ground, I better get back out there and dig. Besides I splurged and bought blueberry and raspberry bushes that just arrived in a box that says "Handle with care."

 

Photo by Joy Feerrar

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