Jackson Free Press

The weekend is over. I sit on my back patio, watching the endless parade of squirrels shimmying up trees and trotting across the top of my weathered-wood privacy fence. My arms ache to the bone. They have acquired a new crop of bruises of unknown origin. Now squeaky clean and wet-haired from a recent visit to the bathtub, I am acutely aware of my surroundings. I know that I am happy.

I have safely installed the New Dawn rose bush along the south side of my privacy fence so it can get the sunlight's full benefits. A little crop of day lilies now resides in a previously desolate bed along the side of the old gray storage shed. The lilies are still alive, their leaves whispering promises of colored blooms in the near future. What colors they will be, they have left to my imagination.

Violas are already cheekily showing their purple, white and yellow blooms. Confederate jasmine, now standing sentinel at the side of the patio, strategizes its future takeover of the deck railing.

This is my backyard, my new obsession. When we bought the dignified house with its cedar siding and original black-lacquered wood shutters, I noticed immediately that the lone dogwood flanked by two crape myrtles seemed forlorn in the midst of tacky overgrown boxwoods that comprised the only shrubbery on the front of the house. The back yard was no better. The previous owners had obviously prepared the dirt for planting, but someone just never got around to actually planting. I knew I was going to have to tackle the problem as soon as possible.

Last spring came and went with no outdoor effort from me. I was too busy painting indoors. By the time I even thought about planting, it was too late to do anything about it. The beginning of fall heralded disaster on the Coast for us, in the form of a completely trashed rental house. I feared we would never be free of this long-distance renovation. Tempers flared, feelings were hurt, apologies followed.

I mourned the interruption of my Fondren renovation. Fondren is home now—this place with its buildings decked out in wacky colors, its scattering of purple wisteria and yellow Lady Banks roses. I couldn't stop thinking about the plants I envisioned in the ground.

We are finally finished with the house on the Coast. I have been told it looks great. I wouldn't know. I haven't had the opportunity to get down there; and I am not really interested in seeing something that has caused so much stress and misery in my life this past year, a taunting reminder of humanity's capability to exploit and destroy and lie. Now, I just want to see the "Sold" sign in its front yard. Poor house!

At some point, I got sick and tired of feeling angry and betrayed. I heard a little voice whisper: "You know what? You still live here. There is beauty in this complicated, nutty world. Get off your hiney and make some." So, I set out to do that.

I am a gardening novice. I needed some advice—and some plants! My grandmother, a veteran green thumb who has spent practically all her life in dirt making things grow, became a sister-in-arms. Flowers and plants became a family affair as Mamaw, Mom and my stepfather Bill (another veteran gardener) walked with me through Mamaw's yard, digging up day lilies, crapemyrtle, ginger fern and amaryllis.

Back at home, as I pressed my weight into my shovel, a weight lifted from my shoulders. As I placed my plants in the freshly dug earth, communing with the earthworms and grubs, I realized I wasn't worrying about anything. I was, as the yogic sages like to say, "in the present moment."

My gardening has spawned other growth. I have "gone local." The folks at Montgomery Hardware always know what I need and get it for me; they know my face now. Two knowledgeable souls at Green Oak Nursery walked me through the steps of growing a rose bush and selecting the perfect azalea.

Mamaw and I talk often now, and I've developed a new appreciation for this strong, dynamic woman. We talk plants and progress to more existential matters. I've cultivated a stronger relationship with my grandmother, put money back into my community, established new relationships and dealt with my own emotional baggage.

I just had to get a bit dirty to cleanse my own psyche.