Two years ago we had some trees come down. We chopped them up and had the tree guy put them through the chipper and make mulch. This year we are using this seasoned mulch in the garden. There is nothing better than the fresh spring smell of mulch in the garden. We live in the woods and it is easy to think of our smallholding and the gardens as an extension of those woods. But it looked sloppy and overgrown last year and so this year, during this hard spring, we are mulching and cutting in those little Connecticut style ditches around all the beds. I stood outside this morning with a cup of coffee and a long breeze and smelled mulch for ten minutes.
We have a bunch of sad stuff happening in and around our family right now. But of course pain is an inevitable part of every life. I think that suffering is optional. I am sad, but I also intend to keep smelling mulch and feeling the joy of this season.
I stood out in the garden dirt in my bare feet and cried for a half hour the other day. I was sad, but I knew the dirt would make me feel whole. Keep smelling the wind.
An old friend of mine has finished a week of mulching her gardens–40 bags of mulch all by herself. It has inspired me to call in someone to clean up my yard and give me some green inspiration for the rest of my chemotherapy sessions.
Good wisdom: pain is inevitable, but suffering is optional. True. (But difficult to separate sometimes.) Hope all is well soon.
your comment about pain and suffering is most excellent.
mulch is a great smell.
nice to see you back in this space. I've been blogging and reading rather sporadically lately.
Ahhh… I'm getting a whiff now. Gardening is so soulful isn't it? Hugs and well wishes as usual.