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Show Thoughts From The Garden... by Tonya LeMone "The view from my window to the world" I know that lately when it comes to discussing the weather, it is extremely hard not to complain. Once again it rained cats and dogs and the wind blew like the end of : the world had suddenly arrived. We, of course, lost another umbrella, the ficus tree blew over three times and the new windows in the potting shed blew open even though they have a latch that apparently does not work well. Oh. . . forgot to mention, the potting shed is almost complete. This is the old carriage house I purchased 23 years ago as it stood at a 60' angle in an open field looking like it had stood the test of : time and the years of wear but stood with the grace of an old grey-haired woman just bent a wee bit. We have once again "repurposed" the grey lady and she has become my early morning refuge where my day begins with my smoothie and my view of the world has a new perspective as I look out the windows to the east and the sun pours in like a gift without a price. : I am reminded about a thought from Lee Ann White .; "The potting shed is the heart of the garden it is where the day begins and ends." As I begin each morning in the garden the newreally old potting shed is where I begin. I fling open the newreally old windows and peer through the opening to see out my window the snow capped mountains with a beautifully painted bright red barn in the foreground standing stately at the base of our mountain like a Norman Rockwell picture. As the sun slowly comes over the mountains, the light in the ' porting shed changes every minute as if a conductor where composing a concerto. I start my morning rearranging the terra-cotta pots for whatever reason I do not know but there is some satisfaction knowing I can move things around without anyone caring. I also pot and repot different herbs just because I can and I might need another little herb garden to accent a table. I check my new basil seedlings that are thriving and feel completely satisfied by their progress. Next, the geraniums in the window box need a little deadheading dead-heading and the Virginia Creeper seems to take command of the f otting shed, so we have to remind it who is the head gardener here and a little, no a lot, of pruning takes place. I pick my last small bouquet of Lily-of-the-Valley and remind myself more must be planted in the Fall. There is never too much Lily-of-the-Valley and it does so well in the shade of the tree outside, the back door of the potting shed. Much more grows and flourishes beneath the roof of a potting shed that lets in the early morning sun and becomes the gardener's window to her world. The head gardener grows here as well. We dabble in artistry, chemistry, biology and common sense. The songs of the season begin here and the wealth of the harvest ends here, too. The potting shed becomes the gardener's home away from home, part office, part tea room part hideout, and helps to define the gardener's life. Even though I have become the biggest complainer about the weather, it has been hard on all gardeners this year. But, I find great comfort and shelter beneath the roof of my new found potting shed where I can continue to find myself as the rains fall and the violent winds blow I am protected by all the elements of the world. Brother Gillman, you would love to see your old carriage house and I would love to have had you visit and sit a spell and be with the head gardener who finds the heart of the garden within the four walls of her potting shed. See you in the Garden |