Garden Confessions

I have a confession to make.

I do not like gardening.

But I like gardens.

It’s complicated.

I like planting things … watching them grow … anticipating color and edible results … taking credit for beautiful flowers and crunchy vegetables.

It’s the weeding, watering, battling bugs part and then wondering what to do with all this green stuff My Guy won’t eat … that’s where the complications come in. I’m also not a fan of being in the garden on windy or wet days … a must do around here if you plan to get anything started in the Spring. Guess that makes me one of those fair-weather variety of gardeners.


In a Covid-stained world, a garden … something alive and bright … feels more important to me than my discomfort, so I battled the “Ugh’s” and set to it. Another motivation has been the bareness of our yard. When we moved in, all that broke up the monotony of yellowish green lawn (Can you call it a lawn when it’s made up largely of weeds?) was a smattering of daffodils and orange tulips along the front porch that our landlord kindly planted prior to our arrival. Oh, and two stubborn hollyhocks survived the town maintenance crew’s attempt to recover alleyways by spraying down weeds.

So … short on resources and green thumb magic, My Guy and I have set about adding color and texture to the place. The yellowish green weed-lawn still is the most prolific thing that grows, but you could say that we’re coming along.

Pause button.

There’s one more confession needed here before I share more pictures. Living in a rural community, I am surrounded by amazing gardens and gardeners. Some of them have been kind enough to let me photograph their gardens. I won’t post those pictures this time, because the confession is that these amazing gardens have brought out the competitive side in me.

Maybe it’s a little nicer to myself to say that they have inspired me. The point is, I could never compete with these master gardeners or the settings in which their gardens grow. So, to not distract from our meager accomplishments, I’m not going to post those pictures this time. Yes … this means that my efforts are pitiful next to there’s so I’m not going to highlight it more than necessary at the moment.

It’s going to take a long, eternity-like, long time to create something as serene and awe-inspiring as these garden whizzes around here. It’s fun though, making it our own.

Three Last Confessions:

Garden gloves are for sissies.

I lied about garden gloves … I don’t use them because I’m too lazy to hunt down where I threw them last … even though I own a Costco-load of gloves.

I will put on gloves if it means plucking slugs off of plants … and full disclosure … I have been known to huck a slug barehanded over the fence a time or two. I was aiming for the alley, but with my aim and the ickiness of a slug against my skin … well, I may or may not have populated the neighbor’s garden with a few extra slugs. (Disclaimer: this was my OLD garden back in the city … we do not have slugs here … thank God!)

This is my compost pile. It only makes it into this post because of all the sunflowers that volunteered. Thanks to the squirrels,
the yard is of full of flowers I did not plant. Of course!

Thank you for reading “Small Stuff”.  This is the second of two blogs.  You can find more on my thought&faith blog at Wishing you a beautiful day full of the Small Stuff that transforms life into BIG STUFF.

A note to my “silent” readers … thank you for taking the time out of your busy day to read my work. I’ve learned that many of you are shy about commenting or hitting the like button, but I want you to know that I appreciate your visits and invite you into the conversations whenever your ready.

Wishing you peace in all things … Shelly


Author: Shelly

A country girl through and through, I am experiencing the bliss of returning "home" to my rural roots after nearly 40 years in the Seattle area. Recent years have been a mix of walking through two life altering health crises in our family, losing my Mom to dementia, transitioning from being a classroom teacher for over 20 years to managing two small-town libraries, and digging in to the peaks and valleys of country life. My original blog, Rashellbud is nearly 8 years old and is full of my "thought and faith" musings, while " Small Stuff Living" celebrates rural life. I also love being behind the lens of a camera and sharing the beauty of what I see with others. One of the true joys of blogging is the growing community of online friends and fellow writers who inspire me in countless ways.

2 thoughts on “Garden Confessions”

  1. As a kid, I hated gardening and soon learned not to utter the “I’m bored” phrase anywhere Mom, when we were on summer vacation. Now that I am a long way past being a kid, I find myself lovingly preparing, planting and weeding the garden until about the end of July, when I start harvesting it and thinking, summer gardens can look a bit unkempt…. Now, all I want to do is get to the first frost, so I can pull the plants and weeds out indiscriminately and turn the soil over. Once the snow falls, who will ever know. Thanks for sharing. Allan

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Allan, sounds like you and I experience the same cycle of garden moods. When I was a kid my dad seemed consumed with trying to break a world’s record in longest row of green beans ever planted in a single garden. Of course, you know who got to weed and pick those beans. I vowed to never be a gardener, but of course, I fell into it as an adult. I’m with you … the front end (Spring) finds me with more enthusiasm than by the time fall rolls around. Thanks for commenting!

      Liked by 1 person

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