I finished the garden yesterday...no, that's not true. I finished the parts I feel comfortable doing alone, the parts that will either be the foundation for a shared project moving forward, or the backdrop for something that will be someone else's entirely. Regardless, to move forward without Sharon's input, would be an acceptance of a possibility I cannot bring myself to embrace until there is a bit more certainty.
The last few steps in the process flew by in a frenzy of activity, the kind you can usually only sustain if the end is in sight. It started with more digging, this time along the back walls of the yard.
I had worked those areas periodically, knowing they were the hardest in the yard. I also knew that how difficult they would be to turn was not going to be an acceptable excuse for not finishing what I'd started, so I wanted to give myself every opportunity to succeed. Even with the prep work, though, it was unbearably hard.
I hadn't gotten more than a couple spadefuls in before I discovered something that made my blood boil: there were oleander roots, alive and well, under this barren ground. One root even had shoots of new leaves springing out from it! How could this be? We had struggled so hard, together and alone, to kill off these poisonous plants, and they were still there, just waiting for a moment of neglect to spring back up. I was so angry. Had I been watering these hated things, nurturing them even as I worked to redeem the wreckage they'd left behind?
I set to work with a furied focus that would have been frightening to see. I was a madman, berserker with a spade. The purpose of the spade vs. a shovel soon became clear, though. Over and over, the sharp edge dug into the the offenders, holding steady until I could jump on the crosspiece and sever them. One root ran the entire length of the bed I was trying to prepare. No sooner would I be done with it in one section, then I would discover it again in the next section I set to work on. As I cut yet another piece off of it, I realized: "If I wasn't trying to plant something new here, I would never have known they were still there."
The thought gave me some peace. I looked around, knowing there had to be more living roots in soil yet unturned...but if I remained committed to filling this place with life, and nurturing what I'd already planted, I would find many of them, and th ones I didn't find would never again be able to take over my yard. These were merely skirmishes with small pockets of resistance left over from a war already fought...nothing a little sweat and toil couldn't overcome.
So I kept at it, and soon enough, was able to plant my last set of shrubs: Duranta Erecta.
The name makes me laugh, even just writing it. They're even supposed to have little blue flowers, although the ones I had were more violet than blue. As I worked, I made up side-effects: "If you experience a bloom lasting more than several days, see a doctor immediately. Size and girth may vary. See label for details."
Sharon would like this game.
I had taken the day off, and I worked straight through it, with a couple trips to the nursery to break it up. And then, I was done. Suddenly, without fanfare. But there was no denying it. There was nothing else I could do right now. I looked around. Everything looked so small, fragile. And success was not guaranteed.
I was suddenly very tired. There were too many ways this could go. But the first steps had been taken, and one thing was certain: there would be no going back.
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