Came home today after the usual couple of hours at the gym. It was stinking hot outside and no sign of rain so, as usual, out came the hosepipe.
Mid-day is not the best time to be watering, but where the alternative is waiting until the right time… and meanwhile the plants die of thirst… I’ll water any old time I can. So for the better part of an hour I wandered around the beds, pots and containers (such as they are) wetting it all down in preparation for this afternoons searing heat.
What struck me half way through was how much I was enjoying myself. Despite being the one who usually ‘does stuff’ out there I don’t really take time to literally smell the roses.
It wasn’t really the roses that set this off, we only have two flowering and neither has a particularly strong aroma. What set me off was the wall of Jasmine alongside the pool which has finally flowered and is filling the area with it’s heady scent. I just stood quietly at the front of the house (where most of the containers are) drinking it down and feeling glad to be alive.
It’s at times like this that the simple pleasures of gardening really hit home. Not the hard backbreaking work turning over a field in readiness for planting ‘taters, or the mind numbing *and* backbreaking tedium of weeding, but just standing looking over your little domain and taking pleasure in the colours, forms, shapes and even feel of the various plants that make it what it is.
It felt… good. 🙂