This is my meditation garden. Every year I weed, cut back overgrowths, plant flowers in pots, put down fresh mulch, and simply enjoy getting my hands in the dirt. My cat often wanders around, enjoying the cool shade, making a secret hiding spot under the paperwhites (the white flowers in the background). I muse over plot points, hide from anyone I’m angry with, and meditate in the serenity of nature.

But you’ll notice there’s no fresh mulch, my weeding gloves and bucket are laid on the path, there are still dead leaves, and it looks a bit overgrown. It’s June and usually I have my garden spruced up before then. Not this year.

This photo was from last year; notice the black mulch, no weeds, the orderly flower groupings. Sigh.

Lean on me…

In January, I caught covid and it was REALLY bad for three weeks (yes, had my shots and boosters- can’t imagine how much worse it would have been without them!). That led to the ‘worst case of bronchitis’ my doctor had ever seen. Then I had to be treated for a partially torn rotator cuff. Weeks later, I was in NYC at Hospital for Special Surgery to have my hip evaluated. On April 17th, I had right hip joint replacement surgery. It seemed one disaster after another. (Honestly, I was happy about the hip surgery because I’d been suffering from arthritic bone spurs and no cartilage for a while).

But I made it through all those situations.

Because I wasn’t afraid to lean on loved ones for assistance, medical professionals for treatment, and others who could help me get back on my feet and into the groove, to use a double cliche.

You can’t do it all…

I couldn’t; my doctor saw me multiple times and had to give me numerous medications to clear up the covid complications, then the bronchitis. My hip surgeon and his whole wonderful team were the only ones who could fix my hip so I wasn’t confined to (another cliche) sitting on the sidelines, watching life pass me by (okay, two cliches). My physical therapists worked with me first for my rotator cuff injury then my hip surgery. Through it all, I relied on my husband, son & daughter-in-law to not only do things around the house, but to help care for me. (My bedroom is on the fourth floor and I could not go up and down the stairs safely for ice packs, meals, or feeding the cat.) When I needed to converse and socialize, my friends and colleagues on social media kept me in good spirits and informed. When I could finally move around a bit better, my daughter-in-law’s brother helped me start to get my gardens in shape.

This garden has been cleaned and mulched.

My dragon garden has been cleaned, mulched, the fig trees uncovered and fenced, and flowers in the pots. (Thanks, Esteban!)

My Village…

I’m not healed enough from my surgery to do all that I need or want to do around the yard, the house (gotta paint the living room…), or the pool/hiking & biking trails Even in my writing life, I rely on a fab critique group and skills/training from my MFA professors. Sitting for long periods of time and getting back in the writing/subbing/revision routine is an issue. There are times I need to chill with an ice pack on my incision in peace (it’s six inches long and very sensitive), but my cat senses and sits nearby (sometimes on my pillow, leaving some fur behind… thanks, cat). I couldn’t play in my bell choir, but members called. My pastor and my son’s in-laws brought me flowers to cheer me. My friends next door and my niece & her family sent me treats (cookies!!!) and another friend sent gourmet teas (oh yeah, baby), That’s my village, and I’m thankful for them. We all need our village.