If I look out my kitchen door, I see a great opportunity--my new garden. I was very excited when we looked at our house when I found a nice garden bed about 20" x 30" that had been built into a slight raise in the yard and flanked on three sides by a short stone wall.
I don't know how long it has been dormant, but not too long--as not much grass has had an opportunity to take hold. I have been wanting to double-spade it to turn the earth over, but my husband is insisting that we borrow a rototiller from a friend. I am okay with that--he wants to take care of me, and I love him for it.
My Dad always had a garden for as long as I can remember. His gardens were, in a word, magnificent.
I have no intention of having an enormous garden--not yet. His advice to me has been to start simple, and that is what I am going to do. A few Heirloom tomatoes, some cukes, a couple of green beans, carrots and onions and some sunflowers for James. Maybe some marigolds and some basil, too.
The last few months have been difficult, to say the least. But--I am seeing a light ahead. I have been talking with my husband, my Dad, my sister about my grief--how it waxes and wanes, and how everything seems to be framed within it. Things that shouldn't bother me at all cut deeply and I cry at night about them. Other things that should hurt like hell just leave me numb.
I know that the people that love me recognize that I need some time to step back into the world.
With their continued support, I think I'll step into my garden first.