Mud everywhere! Dog tracks on the rugs, dog tracks in the car, dog tracks on my cloths.
The wind is cold, the water is running down the driveway and the mountains are crisp with new fallen snow. It makes the green grass popping out from under the porch somewhat surreal.
The guys nearly finished the new greenhouse today. I'm glad their working out there. I'm not quite ready to buck into the wind. The safety of the office seems cozy for me just now. When I am outside I miss Basil so much I can't focus. His beautiful eyes, his nose pushing my leg, his huge frame beside me, watching and patient. This will be a summer of sorrow and I am not ready for it. In the office, I changed my screen saver to his image, then quickly to something else. I was working through tears - the constant pain too real. I miss him beyond what I would ever have imagined, beyond reason and logic. The ache has settled in like an unwelcome visitor, keeping me raw and vulnerable inside.
The new, young dogs seem contented to play and watch, but Rosemary is melancholy. I'm afraid she will never be the same Rose that we have known. Basil was half of her, her joy, her brother. She needs time to refocus, shift, find a new spirit to life. I hope she finds it.
I need to focus as well. I need to find a spot of harmony and peace. Perhaps working in the earth will help. I am out of shape after a winter of sitting. I am out of focus. I am out of wack. I need to be on my knees in the dirt, moving rocks this way and that. I need to be so tired at night that memories and tears are not an option. I need the physical aches that summer brings to my aging body. Perhaps they will help the heart aches fade. I just need to get on with it.
There have been Robin songs the last couple of weeks, in spite of the cold. Thousands of Canadian geese have been in the grain field north of town. The tulips are up in the church garden, and primrose are up at Stonehill Downtown. There is sign of life everywhere as the Day of resurrection has come. Just grab onto it and fly, woman, just fly. So many things to do.
The plants are ready to move into the greenhouse as soon as it is done, perhaps in two days. The plants outside are frozen in, but each day they inch their way closer to a full thaw. I can see the tops of the perennial pots with some wonderful green emerging. The trees leaf buds are full and swollen, waiting for a week of warm weather to burst into unimaginable color.
I look forward to having the main nursery closed this summer. Perhaps we will enjoy the solitude so much that it will remain appointment only. That's a thought. But for now the gardens need major renovation. They are lovely and rambling, but make little sense anymore. They have been left a bit too much to their own devices and need to be reined in. I talk about it like it's a trifle, but work it will be! Heavy, bold, back breaking, wonderful work. A plan would be nice before we begin. Something at least more than a whisper in the back of my mind. I see it dimmed and unclear. I wish I could see my own gardens as clearly as I see those of others, crystal clear and finished, far before we begin. But Lola's Garden at Stonehill.....what a foggy, faded picture it is. I love it so, but can not see its next incarnation. I have a few more weeks to conjure it up, I'll just hope for a few good moments before then.
In the mean time I need to wrap my brain around getting on. All things in their own time I guess. All things in their own time.