The weather is hopelessly nice – hopeless in the sense that I can’t get any work done because of an overriding need to garden. Which doesn’t count as work, really. Gardening is special, in the sense that I never plan it but just do it – happily pottering around. Which is absolutely nice, and the garden needs it, and I enjoy it. So why the guilty feeling?

There are many ways in which having a garden is good for me. For one thing, it teaches me patience. Something I’m not big on, but want to learn. Most of the decisions I take when gardening have a feedback loop of a year or more. This, by the way, is absolutely the reasons why I have a lot of plants in containers – can rearrange those at a moments notice. Which is circumventing the lesson, clearly. A second good thing is that I’m learning the value of anticipation. The buds on the wisteria are swelling now and they  are almost better than the real thing, the full – blown flowering that will follow.

Buds grow
Birds warble
When do the spring dreams come?


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