Wednesday, February 27, 2013

Oh, the absurdity!

If you have, or are currently reading Jane Austin, Pelham Grenville Wodehouse, or Carl Marx - well, with the exception of Carl - then you probably appreciate absurdity. It flows in and out of their writing like a stream through the meadow; even when you don't see it, you can hear it laughing and trickling in the background. It shows itself in a myriad of ways from waiting patiently for your impatients to bloom or perhaps drinking a good bottle of white burgundy (small note: Jean Noel Gagnard Chassagne-Montrachet Les Chenevottes Premier Cru 1996 is divine on warm summer afternoon).
My absurd story started when I knew that I would not have a garden as I had slaved away far too much as a meer child (I called it cruel and unusual punishment). Now I have one of the largest in the neighborhood. It wasn't love at first sight, it was more of a creeping, crawling thing that you aren't quite sure when it got there, but can't remember it not being there either.
To some extent, all gardeners are absurdly patient. We plant a seed, believing the miracle of time, rain, and photosynthesis will create a flower - and oddly enough, it does! In a time when Amazon Prime gets a table saw, diapers, and a book delivered in two days, we actually start something that will not do anything for at least 14-21 days, then will slowly grow - only to die back then grow back next year and possibly bloom, but most likely will wait for the third year. Try finding logic there. Another absurdity is composting. If you are like me, you throw weeds, coffee, leaves, cuttings, excess salad and the rest (usually referred to as refuse in polite circles) and expect black gold to come out.
Oddly enough, we are also absurdly impatient. We clamor (I may be more guilty than the most) for spring all winter long, then complain that there isn't enough time for all of our spring projects. We know  our zones' frost dates, yet plant 2 weeks early (hoping winter doesn't notice).
So, instead of trying to stop the true absurdity of life, enjoy it, revel in it; knowing we are all a little absurd. It is what makes this life on earth a little more pleasant. ;)


  1. You are so right! Gardening does teach us patience. A good quality to have, even in this day and age of immediate gratification. All that waiting makes each bloom and each spring even more precious, I think.

  2. Oh, I love this post! Yes, patience. I was drawn to gardening because of that; it was such a contrast from the fast pace life I was leading. I love that most gardeners share this love of hard, physical work, learning patience and seeking delayed gratification. True traits to bond by. Cheers, Jenni

  3. I am not one for patience but I suppose it's true that gardening does teach us patience. I cannot wait for spring this year, for whatever reason my spring fever is crazy this time.