Living With Limitations: Counting
While daydreaming about my garden, all that I want and hope to do come good weather, if and when it ever arrives, perhaps it is time to take timeout. Not the kind of timeout your mom gave you, but perhaps a pause in focus. It could even help with cases of cabin fever that may be developing. I decided to take some time out to do a bit of counting. Not the kind of counting Scrooge Mc Duck does, but rather other ways in which I am indeed a wealthy man.
I have my first appointment of the new year with my cardiologist this week. While sitting in the waiting room I will get to see what I always see while I wait my turn. Patients much worse off than I. Does that cure my health problems? No. But, I do get to see reasons to be thankful for where I am in the progression of my diseases. Some of the people in that room, perhaps sitting next to me, will not be there when I have my next appointment. I am still here, and in the upright position, when some of my friends can no longer say that. While I am not exactly overcome with an exuberance of happiness with my diagnoses, I sure am glad the warnings came early enough that I have time remaining to garden.
When I look inside to see what I may have to contribute to the world around me I find I am fortunate beyond belief. While my writing may not be on the level of Conrad or Faulkner, I tell myself that all things are relative. I do get to express myself and occasionally I find it gets read. That is a great honor, and truth be known, writing if far more satisfying to me than perhaps the reader.
Related to my writing are requests for me to speak on occasion. How many people get the opportunity to tell tall tales about their gardening, to have baskets filled with opinions, and get paid for expressing them. When I give a presentation, it takes every ounce of what I have to give and when the last hand has been shook, the last hug given, there is nothing left. It is a double edge sword in that speaking has both exhaustion on one side and satisfaction on the other.
I still find the time and strength to gather up my tripod, camera and notebook along with a cup of hot tea, and head up the hillside into my garden. The photos I capture are like portraits of my children. I have raised them from seed or transplant to adulthood and now, with a parent’s pride, I get to show them off, perhaps brag just a bit.
Combing the visual with text and speech completes the illustrating of my garden, of sharing. We both know a garden is not a “true” garden until it is shared.
Gardening as way of life has changed for me, but I am still out there gardening, weather and doctor’s appointments permitting. Of all the good things in life I have to celebrate I count gardening at the top of my list. Even when I cannot actively garden with my spade as companion, I can still walk the paths and be a part of, know a connection to, the earth where I am told I came from and will return.
Tallying Up the Counting
I may not be able to swim in gold coins as does Scrooge Mc Duck, but I can wade a shallow stream of wealth. No, I cannot purchase every plant I want, bring home the containers I covet, or purchase the hardscaping, even make that pilgrimage to PA to see Longwood Gardens. But, that may not be a bad thing, for it forces discipline upon me.
Above all, I have you to share my story with. Thank you.
Keep Reading. Won’t be long now before the announcement.