My corner city lot takes more manicuring than I'd like. With almost 200 feet of sidewalk to be edged, tiny bits of grassy area to be trimmed, fences and flower beds to be maintained, it seems there is always something. When there is little time or too much heat for yard work, I usually ignore the section under the large pecan tree. So when several tree sized limbs fell, the big trellis over the fence gate blew down, the small Blue Gate needed to be repaired and the grass near the garden pools died, all about the time of the new baby's arrival, it was seemed overwhelming.
Susan and I , and a little help, began to tackle the chore with vigor if not with enthusiasm. We trimmed, raked and filled the curb with piles of limbs and bags of clippings. I called an uncle and aunt who use wood for winter heating -- they were delighted to get the clean burning pecan logs and came to cut it up. I pruned the overgrown hydrangeas which were beginning to change from their soft blue to a brilliant green and dried the blooms for my sister to use for this weekend's wedding -- she will fill the country church reception hall with the best of them. Susan and Lucy put new fish in the small pond and will fill the larger one with sand.
As we finished each task and we could see the end of the work, I remembered why I've always carved out flower beds which needed to be weeded, pruned and maintained.
It was in the work, in the sharing, and in the freshly created patterns of light, space, texture and color that I rediscovered another little bit of myself.