Gardening Hope

Peach Blossoms in March

I took up gardening, five seasons ago, not lured by a romantic desire for posies and roses.

My desire was a necessity – I had to eat.

The writing job that had recruited and moved me from the East Coast to Northern California had evaporated after a scant three months instead of the promised five years until the project’s completion.

In the beginning of 2009, as the world’s economy crumbled finding another full-time job at any salary, much less the six-figure one I had enjoyed for the briefest of time was impossible. 

Having been a freelancer for several years prior, I was fortunate my thriftiness was well established.

Now the game of survival hit the major leagues. No unemployment insurance cushioned my search for work –my far from hefty savings paid for everything.

Looking at my small backyard under a cold March drizzle, I decided to lose my virgin status as a gardener. 

The ground, hard and unyielding under my rather crude tools, reflected my rocky search for employment. Then the typical late winter rain came.  With the ground growing muddy, I was unwilling to dirty my clothes, requiring money to clean.

A brilliant thought hit me.

My winter parka needed washing. Stripping down to my underwear I put on the parka and let streams of laundry liquid pour down from the shoulders.

Back outside  I went to hack sloppy chunks of mud with a fury.

After an hour the coat was clean, there was a cleared plot and my tears of fear were washed away by rain and physical work.

In this its fifth year, my garden now produces vegetables year-round with kale and Swiss chard in the winter, lettuce in the spring and everything from apricots, tomatoes and peppers harvested in the summer to fresh oranges at Thanksgiving.

Money is still scarce, but I can relax knowing healthy food is just a quick walk away,

Now, my garden is shared with several generations of a feral cat family, crafty squirrels, and a hummingbird that likes to dive bomb me under the peach tree.

It is my refuge of peace – a place where I can meditate, remember loved ones who have passed and reflect on the new and positive aspects to bring to my life..

Seeing thin verdant coils of new life push out of dirt, brings me hope,

Lately, when someone I know has suffered a loss, I send a packet of vegetable seeds. Lettuce, with its high success rate, is my usual choice.
 

I wish the grief-stricken too would find a place, if only a pot on a sunny balcony, to witness life's continuation and feel comfort in its power.

Expressing Sympathy at a Funeral

"I lost my brother," sobbed a stranger crying on my shoulder. "John was just like a brother to me. Do you know what I mean?"

"Uhhh, yes," I mumbled back rather incredulous.

After all, we were at the funeral of my only sibling.

Sharing words of comfort at a funeral is something many find an uneasy task.  Unfortunately, this discomfort often manifests itself into awkward statements to the bereaved. Instead soothing the grief-stricken, they are left feeling worse.

Here are a few other things to avoid:

He is in a better place.

She lived a good long time.  My neighbor's daughter died young.

Did the doctors give her any hope? 

You will get over it.

I know how you feel.  I lost my pet iguana last month.

It was his time.

How to express sympathy sincerely:

I am so sorry for your loss.

I fondly remember insert name of the deceased for his/her insert something like great belly laugh, love of karaoke or poker skills.

What an inspiration he/she was with their insert something like being a terrific father/mother.

I don’t know what to say, but I am here to help anytime you need.

You are in the thoughts and prayers.

Don’t say anything.  Instead, offer a hug.