Post covid end of a season
Once again the gardening season comes to an end in a glorious firework display of autumn colours. The days are getting shorter by the minute it seems; shadows loom in the garden by early afternoon and the colours are saturated all day long. It goes by so fast, this lovely autumn time, that for once I have a bit of fomo - fearing I've missed out on so much of the season as life unexpectedly threw a curved ball at us.
Time flies when having fun, they say, but also when busy with less happy endeavours. Sometimes time just passes by while we are busy with other things, and joyful activities like gardening just get done in a haze of thoughts occupied by other stuff. For me the unexpected suffering of one of my grown up children, who was struck down by Long Covid insomnia, has eaten up much of my mind space, leaving little room for taking pictures and blogging about the garden. As anyone who has ever had a few sleepless nights can sympathise, not sleeping for nine months is torture. So too in its own way is watching someone you love so much suffer. Who knew that a tiny bout of flu (as his Covid experience was) could wreak such devastating consequences? Now, nine months later with the help of medication and time, it seems we are getting somewhere. Not cured, not good, but reasonably well a few days of the week.
As any sleep is good sleep and as he tends to catch it in daytime, I tiptoe about in the gardens while I harvest the last of the vegetables and clear the beds for winter. There is something very therapeutic in this work I do, and once again I thank my lucky stars for living deep in the countryside instead of a town. Here, the only sounds you hear are the soft rustling of the leaves and the occasional birds calling to get on with their migration south. As things go there couldn't be a better place to be convalescent, regardless of how long it takes. As a parent you would like to be able to do something, and the most stressful factor is being a bystander in a loved ones illness, so it gives me a little bit of comfort to at least be able to provide an anti-inflammatory diet. Purple potatoes and multicoloured carrots - antioxidants galore! Celeriac with wild deer meat - not a hormone or chemical in sight! We humans tend to take our comfort where we find it.
Nature, and by extension gardening, is the best medication for anxiety I have ever found. Moving about all day long between the houses I find much comfort in the little details of the shifting seasons. "This too shall pass" I think as I watch summer pass into autumn, and autumn settling into winter. For once it is not a sad sentiment - I don't mind the passing of time nor seasons as time brings healing. It is a slow process, but it is at least a reminder of how things do change for the better. One day spring will come again with all the joy and exuberance of a new season.