Rainy day contemplations

The rain, it is relentless.  Thankfully, I enjoy rain.  I like the smell of it, the sound of it, and if my hair didn’t kink up so much in humidity, I’d walk in it without cover.  Unfortunately, my body doesn’t enjoy the rain so much.  I suffer with hormonal migraines and the rain exacerbates the pain and nausea.  Strangely, every month when I’m about to fall down with a migraine, it rains.  The weather appears to be conspiring against me.  One of my unspoken, unpublished resolutions this year has been to take better care of myself.  Eat better, exercise regularly, drink more water, exfoliate, give a damn about my hair and eyebrows.  One of the things I did early in the year was talk to my doc about these migraines . . . again.  We found a drug that works and so today I am pleased to report, I started the day off iffy and am now feeling fine.

And we got to get ourselves back to the garden, as Joni Mitchell would say.

Why garden?  I have always piddled around with plants and flowers.  They usually die.  I have some plants, however, that linger.  Like the graduation plant, a Croton, I received from my siblings during my last semester of college some 20 years ago.  It is staked and has been transplanted a few times.  It was under care of a friend for a year while my husband and I moved to DC for his internship.  Still kicking.  I also still have the Calla Lily that had been my mom’s.  She passed away 14 years ago and I don’t remember how long she had it.  I still have the Scented Geranium cuttings that my friend Sarah gave me 10 years ago when we left DC.  My dad actually thought it was a pot plant!  And I rescued a Christmas Cactus from under the porch of our old house about 7 years ago.  It is thriving and blossoms twice a year.  There is something calming about plants, about planting and watching things grow.  I love getting my hands dirty and scrubbing the mud out of my nails for days.  I love the smell of the earth.  I even love watching earthworms wiggle around in the holes I dig.  My daughter likes holding worms.  Maybe she gets this from me.  Ultimately, I find gardening relaxing and therapeutic.  Almost spiritual.  I can get lost in time when I garden.

The 20 year-old Croton

I need to make a list of my favorite plants to remember them.  Maybe when I visit the garden center I can slowly purchase each one and place them in the correct spot so that my yard looks like the cottage garden in my mind.  Weirder things have happened.  I’ve kept a Croton alive for 20 years.