Spring Cleaning

Now that many of us have been "sheltering-in-place" for perhaps for several weeks now, we have gone through various stages of societal withdrawal.  The introverts have gotten over the euphoria of not having to deal with anyone else, the extroverts have had a tantrum or two for being restricted, and the rest have put in their queque every disaster movie ever made about pandemics, viruses and aliens, or taken to watching animal antics. Pass the popcorn please. Now what? We are still confined "for our own safety and the safety of our loved ones" to the landscape of our homes.

We are beginning to reckon with our mortality in a very real way.  Perhaps you found out someone you know is sick, or quarantined, or dead.  I knew that no amount of intellectual preparation for death in my world would protect me from the inevitable.  Last week, I heard the parent or aunt of a second hand acquaintance was hospitalized.  I sympathized, and moved on.  I heard about a famous celebrity who succumbed.  I shook my head and move on. Then I heard someone I knew, ever so long ago has died.  I remember the beautiful circumstances of that relationship, and the people involved, and I feel this more personally.  The looming presence of death too near. Death is on the doorstep.

How do we cope in this relentless onslaught of frightening news? Find a quiet room in ourselves to regain composure?  Perhaps first of all,  clean up the room.  I choose to spring clean the garden.

My spring gardening has taken on epic proportions this year.  Going out there is always cathartic for me, even if it is just a ramble through the woodland to see what delightful ephemeral has emerged overnight.  This year, I am fanatically purposeful to look in every nook and cranny, for treasure, for things that need purpose, for what may be inhibiting the success of something else.  Very little is actually going to the yard waste bin.  Today's rot and decay is tomorrow's compost. Fallen branches fortify the dead hedge. Sodden leaves enrich the veg beds. The willow bench too weak to support a person, now elegantly sits in the Long Bed flanked by camassia and skirted by hardy geranium.

I will probably have the best garden this year than I have ever had before (like many of us!) because I am laser focused on making do with what I have. Unrestrained spring consumption is not possible.

Nature has already shown us that she is resilient when we stop our relentless onslaught on her gifts.  The rivers and streams are clearer, the air is cleaner, the animals are emerging from hiding.  I aim to enjoy this natural bounty more wisely.