“Where the hell have you been?” my garden and the SGS blog both asked.
I put in my last day of employment over a year ago, but when I set my sites on retirement from my “day job”, sitting back and relaxing was far from the plan. In this next phase of my life, I would have plenty of time to garden while I effortlessly and finally tended the career path I’d chosen some 44 years ago, creating and selling art.
After I wrapped up my professional responsibilities, I gave myself six months to develop a new life, one where I don’t sit at my computer every week day. It takes time to shake any habit, but just as I was getting the swing of it, I decided it was time to show up to work. I signed up to participate in a small Makers’ Market. I would have to figure out how to build a booth, put together some inventory, and display my art. I would work on this while I managed my home and garden. How hard could it be?
In April, I traveled most of the month to visit and help with grand children. May seemed intent on raining constantly. June was so hot it was easy to skip garden work in lieu of the studio. The world went on completely unconcerned with any of my requirements.
I am so sorry, garden. By the time I got back to you, the plants that hadn’t been destroyed by uninvited guests (some might call them vermin) had grown over. I couldn’t tell where tomato plants ended and loofah vines began. Although I had a great run early on with cucumbers, and a modest couple of green bean gatherings, my harvest was a monumental disappointment when compared to the planting work I had put in.
Since I made that decision back in March, I’ve been focusing on creating art and how to present it, and the year 2025 has definitely been one of production and experimentation. First, I needed to build my inventory, second, I needed determine the proper venues. I’ve participated in two Arts and Crafts makers’ markets and I had a booth at a Blues and BBQ festival. Each outing has helped me craft my presentation as I prepare for my first actual juried art festival in mid October. I’ll do another arts and crafts market geared toward the holidays in November. I am learning, taking notes, and modifying.
Moving forward to next year, I imagine that my working life will evolve into something more seasonal. When the Fall festivals are over, I’ll work outside, putting the gardens, save a small patch for winter greens, to bed for winter. As the temps drop, I’ll retreat to indoor work in the studio and kitchen. Late Winter and early Spring will be devoted to seed starting, the continued learning of permaculture, and my beloved gardens. Springtime I’ll split my time between art fairs and garden work. When the heat rises, I will return to the cover of my air-conditioned studio to produce and begin again, preparing for the coming of Fall festivals and art shows.
Sounds perfect, right? It will be interesting to see if this is how it works out. As I ponder the future I glance out the window and cringe at the dried up sunflower stalks still standing in my neglected and overgrown kitchen garden. Then I notice there is still beauty in the sunflower’s late life. I admire the petrified stalks and picked over flower heads that endure to provide bounty for wildlife, and spring growth. As I ponder, a black-capped chickadee lights on one of the heads in agreement, looking for some last seeds still awaiting release or consumption. I can be happy knowing this is what I intended. Success! Beauty is provided in many different ways. I’ll leave the stalks standing for a good while longer.
A couple of days ago, I was stalking about the westside beds looking for loofahs, and I found a watermelon in the overgrowth! It was huge, and yet had gone unseen until now. Left to their own devices, do they hide on purpose in hopes of remaining undiscovered. Is their desire to ripen and rot in place so to spread their seed. Do they long to ensure their prodigy will thrive in the coming year? Not to worry, my lovely melon. I will take good care of your seeds.
This precious fruit was oddly shaped but upon opening, I found it looked just like a watermelon on the inside and tasted heavenly. Richard is out of town, and I don’t want my sole melon harvest to go to waste. How do you eat a watermelon by yourself? I’ve been grazing on it for the last few days. Maybe I’ll juice the remainder and freeze it before the whole thing heads south.
In the meantime, as we move toward winter and year’s end, I too have a plan for ensuring my work goes on, but am open to possibilities, as things often don’t go as expected. I muse upon this for a bit, but it’s time to get on to my to-do list. I consider briefly what I might have for breakfast this morning. But not for long! Watermelon, of course.
