Why I still garden

I imagine my readers grow weary of seeing one picture after another of my vegetable garden in all its stages, but let me tell you why I go on about it so often:  At this time of my life, at the age of 77, it's the most exciting thing I do.

If you go far enough back in my blog, you will see entries about me riding my horse, Blue (yes, same name as the cat I have now, but for different reasons).  Blue and I had adventures riding down by the river and all along the country roads for miles around.  What a wonderful time that was.  Later on, Cliff and I had a motorcycle and had adventures together, just the two of us... sometimes accompanied by his sister and her husband.  Some rides were a little more adventurous than I would have wanted, but oh, what memories!

These days, adventures are few.  I find my enthusiasm for most activities has worn down, little by little.  Oh, I still have a good and pleasant life.  There are things I like to do:  read, cook meals (most days), bake cookies, go to church on Sundays, walk in the woods.  But even doing things I love, my enthusiasm for most pursuits has waned with time, with one exception:  my yearly garden.

My knees hurt more and more as time passes.  My strength is not half what it used to be, and I'm weary all the time.  But when I limp slowly out to the garden, I have enthusiasm!  I plant the seeds, and have hope they will all germinate and eventually pop up above the ground.  If that planting doesn't make a good showing, I plant more seeds in that same spot, knowing failure isn't always final.

When there's a solid line of tiny plants in each row, I have faith they will live to make a crop, and that excites me.  Later on when tiny blooms appear, I know it won't be long before I see a crop developing on the vines and plants.  And when I notice the first pea-sized green tomato, believe me when I tell you I can almost taste it already... not small and green any more, but sun-warmed, apple-red, ripe, and sweet!

Each spring when I'm ready to start tilling the sweet earth after it thaws, I tell my husband, "This could be my last garden."  

I'll be 78 in July, and I never know when my weariness and leg pain will be enough to make me give up gardening.  For that matter, who knows; my time to leave this earth could come any day.

As I think about it, maybe it's like this:  When I can't play in the dirt any more, that might be the best time to let this old body become one with the dirt.  But for this moment, I still have something to be enthusiastic about, so I look to the future each day.

At least for today, I still have a future on this earth. 

In admiration of a cat

I've been thinking about my cat, Blue, this morning, about what a wonder he is.  He's the first semi-inside cat I've ever had, unless you count the times in my early teens when I sneaked cats and kittens in the house while my parents were away at work.

Baby Blue

All cats are a delight to me in the way they sometimes strut, sometimes glide,  and in the case of Blue, sometimes pounce on a dog as they go about their day.  I always think of leopards as I watch my cat strutting, so confident, silent, and graceful.  He was very tiny when he came to us as a gift from the grandmother of the little girl we babysat.  For perhaps a week, I shut him in the back porch and supplied a litter box, because I wanted him to know where his home was so he wouldn't get lost.  Once I trusted him to stick around outside, he never needed a litter box again.  He'll go to either door and look up at the doorknob until we let him out.  If he gets shut in Cliff's shop at night and needs to relieve himself, he will actually poop in the coffee can of sand that Cliff asks people to put their cigarette butts in; don't ask us how a cat gets in that position!

He came to us in May of 2020; I should have named him Corona, in honor of the virus!  Once he got well acquainted with Gabe, my dog, they were steadfast buddies and played tag outside and inside, taking turns at being the "chaser".   These two have been a wonderful distraction through the last couple of years of shut-downs, masks, and being stuck at home.

We have spent at least $300 on Blue, not counting cat food.  There was his neutering, of course.  But because he spends so much time outside, he has twice been pretty seriously hurt because of the old devil-cat that attacks him from time to time.  The first time he had so much infection in his back leg he had to spend a night with the Vet.  The last time he had to have have several stitches on the same leg.

Even my husband likes Blue, and he's never been an admirer of cats before.

The thing about my cat that amazes me most is his patience, and the way he trusts us.  When we had to push pills down Blue's throat, he didn't fight it.  Cliff would hold him, and I'd shove the pill in, pushing it back with my finger.  Cliff thought I'd get bitten, but that cat only laid back his ears and let me do what I had to do.  When he had some sort of mites in his ear I got something from the vet, and this time I held him while Cliff inserted the dropper in his left ear.  Blue would shake his head and lay the ear back, but never offered to fight in any way except for a little squirming as we did it.  Every evening he knew what was coming, but allowed us to doctor him instead of running and hiding.

Blue in his cat tree

Blue in the winter sunshine