Good Day To Be Me

This time of year is when my poor knitting needles go into hibernation, usually until October. I gather up my projects, stuff them in my knitting bag and there they will sit until I start getting that ancy, restless feeling that I can't put my finger on and it doesn't go away until I finally settle into my comfy chair with a new project in hand. Note: New Project. Picking up an unfinished project after months away from the needles is akin to eating a half eaten cookie that has been sitting on the counter for a day or two. I've been known to do just that, by the way, but nothing compares to a freshly baked still warm from the oven cookie...or two.

What will I do with my idle time between now and October? I will find any and every excuse to go outside and putter in my garden, digging up plants and dividing them and planting new ones. My approach to gardening is similar to my approach to knitting. The minute the plants start arriving at the nurseries I start itching to fill up a wagon full of perennials and annuals and anything that just might survive in my yard. I hunt and gather. I'm on a mission and I never go to a nursery looking for a specific plant. I search until something catches my eye. I don't have a plan, just yet. I buy first and think later. I won't know where I'm going to plant it until I get it home and then I take the little guy around until I find the perfect home. Sometimes it isn't perfect and I must dig him up, usually after he starts wilting from the heat of the all day sun because he is, in fact, a shade lover whose owner neglected to take notice and put him in with the geraniums and their sun loving friends. They probably talk about him behind his back which is why he is droopy and sullen and his leaves are burning from embarrasement. It causes me great angst to know I may have damaged him forever and he quite possibly would have had a better life in the hands of a Master Gardener with a Ph.D. in Soil Studies.

The way I approach gardening and knitting, or whatever it is I do, speaks volumes, which I am now finally discovering. No need to pay for a session with a shrink; take up a hobby. Start knitting or gardening and you will learn more about yourself than you ever care to know. My husband is the polar opposite and his approach to everything is very analytical and precise, always with a spreadsheet full of data he has gathered and entered ever so carefully. Very neat. Very tidy. Very structured. He often has a look of bewilderment or confusion on his face when I back in the driveway, open the back of my Suburban and, voila, there is a garden in my trunk. Green leafy plants spring forth, colorful blooms are abundant, a new pair of gloves to start the season. I am in my element until I hear my husband as he approaches.

"Where are you going to plant those?"

"Huh? I don't know. I havent' thought about it yet."

"If you had a plan and stuck to it then you would know exactly where you are going to plant them and you wouldn't waste so much time digging up plants and moving them every year."

"huh?"

Then we both look deep into each others eyes and walk away in total confusion. We don't think alike and never will. He doesn't understand my approach and I can't begin to think how boring it would be to approach things the way he does. I would be tired before I even got started if I had to lay out my garden on a spreadsheet and draw a detailed 3 dimensional layout of my yard before I could shop for plants.

There is a slight problem with this method, both in my gardening and knitting. I have a garden of yarn spilling forth from drawers and bags, needles a go-go, and several completed socks...but they are all different. Not one completed pair to wear.

Maybe I do need a shrink.