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snip, swoop, nip & tuck Take time to do the little things that count, too
I've come to realize that such down-and-dirty gardening is necessary most, but not all, of the time. Fluffing and buffing, or putting the finishing touches on the garden, is a kind of maintenance that leads you to look closely and work slowly and carefully. It is also a vital step to making the garden look its best. You can get outdoors, feel the sunshine and the breeze, and accomplish quite a bit, all without needing a change of clothes beforehand and a lengthy session with a nail brush afterward. I'm trying to modulate my usual project-oriented, attack-mode approach with a little tying up, sweeping and nipping back, both to stave off exhaustion and to put a finished sheen on the garden.
You know how just before company comes you run a dish towel over the wine glasses, put out fresh towels, neatly fold the afghan that's been piled in a lump for a week? These little tricks make the house appear at its best, even if down the hall the bed is unmade and you never found time to vacuum. Who notices any of that when there are lighted candles, a vase of flowers and enticing scents coming from the oven or soup pot?
What tasks qualify? If you can go out after work with only a change of shoes, or if you require nothing more than a pair of clippers to complete the task, those are good signs. If, after you've finished, it doesn't look like a whirlwind hit, throwing out clumps of soil, roots and big limbs, that's an indicator you've succeeded at working small. Your back shouldn't ache after you're done fluffing and buffing, and that alone is reason to fit it into your repertoire of gardening skills. Much has been written lately about gardens as sanctuary and retreat. Fine garden tidying is especially important to encouraging repose. How can you relax on an unswept patio, enjoy looking at a pot with flowers past their peak, or saunter along paths obscured by falling-over asters? Does anything make you more nervous than a leaning lily in need of a stake, or a drooping plant desperate for water? I'm afraid respite comes at the price of vigilance over the little tasks. Think of the lovely tranquility inherent in precisely kept Japanese gardens, with raked paths, a single leaf drifting to the ground, the purity of stone, water and simple evergreen. So next time you get out there and work full tilt dividing rooty plants or laying a new path, balance it out with a little deadheading and pinching back. For every heavy, dirty job that needs doing there are the gentler tasks of sweeping the stepping stones and shearing the hardy geraniums. No doubt some flower or other is at its peak, and if you don't slow down enough amidst the work to soak in its perfume, you'll miss the chance until next year. Let's all hope for warm sunshine to draw us outdoors while making us a little lazy, and for plenty of overnight rain to keep everything blooming and growing without any intervention from us at all. Valerie Easton is a Seattle free-lance writer and contributing editor for Horticulture magazine. Her e-mail address is vjeaston@aol.com. Susan Jouflas is a Seattle Times staff artist. |
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