I was having one of those down days. My sister is in a memory care center in the Boston area, so of course I hadn’t been able to see or talk to her for several months. I’d gotten an email about a meeting the staff was having for family members, but the notice came so late, I couldn’t even be on that call. This annoyance turned into a fog of helplessness that seemed to engulf me. We’d had a plan to get a medication review for my sister. We’d had a plan to see if we could locate a spot for her in a different facility that could better meet her needs. And earlier than that, I’d had a plan to travel to the Boston area to visit her and tend to some of this myself.
It is my practice when I feel this down, to pivot to what I can do, rather than get mired in what I can’t, so I walk outside to my garden. Deadheading the daisies and trimming the rose bush began to life my spirits. The flower boxes on the deck and these new perennials I’ve planted need my help to bring forth their radiance. And in this heat wave, they need my faithful watering to stay alive.
This is the first time in many years than I’ve even tried to grow flowers in the summertime in Pittsburgh. With nobody home during heat waves like we’ve had recently, our usual summer travel schedule wouldn’t allow me to care for them properly. Paying this close attention to the living and dying of plants in the natural world reminds me that life is tough sometimes, for all living things. Outside assistance and caring help is frequently required.
I decide to take a figurine from a countertop in my house and place it in the center of my garden. My sister Pat had told me that, my being 3 ½ years older than she–when she saw it, she had to buy it for me. It so reminded her of us. The sculpture is of two young women, not a common subject for statues. The taller ponytailed girl with her hands behind her back is leaning over the smaller girl and kissing her on the top of her head. As I look at the garden out the sliding door of my media/dance studio, where I do much of my work, tears of gratitude fall from my eyes. The small feminine figures seem dwarfed by the greenery surrounding them, but it’s clear they belong. And they and the garden will keep reminding me of us, and what we have had throughout our long lives together, as my sister forgets.
Gardening is beneficial for Health: A meta-analysis
