As the Garden Goes

     Coffee in hand, standing at the patio doors, Penny stares out at the dilapidated shed hunkered in the corner of her back yard. Her eyes roam from there, noticing the shed isn’t the only sad, rickety, grown-over thing in the yard. In fact, the whole place looks neglected, as though it hasn’t been cared for in a very long time. Accurate. It hasn’t. 

         Ever since her marriage fell apart three and a half years ago, Penny has experienced bouts of depression and self-loathing. It’s hard not to think she was the reason Douglas left her for another woman. Intellectually, she’s aware he probably would have left no matter what she did. He was always looking for the next best thing; vehicles, jobs, clothes, boats, and women. This past year, Penny has struggled to find a full-time job, and has been gaining weight as fast as her self esteem has been dropping. Every now and then she visits her kids, adults now, and in other cities. Those visits are the tonic she seeks, full of laughter, fabulous food, engaging conversation, and miles of trails or roads to explore together. However, they are short-lived and she returns home to the empty house with the unkempt yard.

         The sun was bold this June morning and Penny decided it was going to be a good day. She would tackle the outdoors and make it a place to reclaim herself. Somewhere that is truly hers to enjoy.

         After searching online for ideas, and a quick run to the garden store nearby, Penny changed into work clothes and rounded up the supplies she thought she’ll need. With a smile signifying confidence, and her head cluttered with inspiration, she trotted out to tame the wild wasteland awaiting her. “It’ll be amazing”, she thought. Maybe she could get a job as a landscaper. After all, how hard could it be?

         The first hour flew by. Penny stopped for a minute to survey her work. Yes! Yes! Yes! At this rate, she will be sitting this evening with a glass of wine on the patio under the lights bathing in the warmth of self-worth and accomplishment. “A toast to me. I can do anything!”, she whispered to herself, feeling the future moment.

         Having cleared the weeds from a significant section of the long-buried garden, she surveys the row of plants she picked up earlier in the day. There were at least 8 that she could fit in this area. Penny laid the plants atop of the newly disturbed soil, shifting and switching pots until she was content with the aesthetics. She always loved when things finally fell into place, enjoying the impact of her creativity. For her it was like looking at a Maud Lewis or Emily Carr painting. True, beautiful satisfaction.

         It had been years since the last time Penny dug any holes in her yard, but within minutes of starting, she remembered one of the reasons she never really got too far with her garden plans. Rocks. So many rocks. You could say her yard could double as a quarry. Every hole she dug increasingly wore on her confidence as well as her body. It was impossible to dig one hole, let alone eight. And this was only a small area of the yard. She still had what now looked like a gazillion more plants, including two trees waiting to be placed. How was she ever going to manage all she had hoped to do? Suddenly, the work seemed daunting. She felt foolish in thinking she could do this. 

         Overwhelmed, Penny sat on the steps at the back of the house contemplating whether or not to continue. A voice broke through the string of expletives in her head. Looking up, she noticed the neighbour to the south waving in her direction. “Not now,” she thought. She wasn’t feeling social, to say the least.

         His name is Reese. Young, friendly, dishevelled, and always in motion as he speaks. He is offering to help, and at this time, Penny is glad to accept, thanking him repeatedly. Relief quickly replaces her dismay and she can feel the energy surge once again into her weary limbs. She points out the spots where he can dig, and he begins enthusiastically.

         Penny refocuses her attention to the next garden area along the fence-line, pulling up weeds and assessing what plants she has already. She can hear Reese’s happy patter as he clonks the shovel into the ground, pulling up rocks as he goes. It’s nice to work with someone with such a happy vibe, Penny surmises. Glancing sideways, a while later, she notices he is a quick worker, and is much further along than she would have thought. Stopping her own efforts, more for a break than anything, Penny wanders over to see how he’s doing. That’s when she sees it. Reese is indeed a fast worker, but the holes he’s dug aren’t where she wanted them, and some aren’t even in the garden. “How? What?” she splutters, then screams “Stop.”

         Startled, Reese pulls the shovel up with a jolt, stands, and turns her way. Despite a passing look of confusion, the huge smile splitting his dirt-smeared face when he sees her tells her all she needs to know. He hasn’t got a clue. He doesn’t see the random direction he’s taken or the extra work he’s created. “What are you doing?” she enquires, trying to keep her voice from rising again.

         “Digging holes. I had no idea how fun this is. Crazy sic man. I feel so powerful.” He says this as he raises the shovel above his head and lets out a roar.

         Despite what Penny’s thinking, out of her mouth she blurts “You’re not digging where I asked you to. This is all wrong!”

         “Oh yeah. I kinda got carried away. Oops. So awesome though.” Much to her surprise, he’s pleased and proud.

         At this moment, Penny desperately wants him to leave. Her determination is starting to crack again. His buoyant enthusiasm reminds her of a puppy awkwardly attempting new tricks. She can’t bring herself to be the one to tarnish that. Panicking, she sees the shed and suggests he straighten out the one side where the majority of the mess sits. “Sure”, he intones, that enthusiasm still hanging off him like layers of cotton candy. Penny lets a tiny exhale escape and returns her attention elsewhere. Within no time at all, she can hear him joyfully shuffling stuff around inside. He’s whistling too, no tune, just sound. Every so often, something would sail out the doorway and onto an ever-increasing pile. The sound of a cell phone can be heard, then Reese talking, then he pops out into the sunlight again. “Well, see you later.” he states as he briskly makes his way back to his side of the fence.

         Surprised, relieved, and disappointed all at the same time, Penny thanks him again and waves. Then he is on his motorbike and gone, with just the fading rumble of the engine to keep her company. She sighs and continues clearing out the weeds. Sweat is creeping down her forehead, and she is aware of just how hot the day has become. Time to rest and get out of the sun, she figures.

         The cool of the kitchen is welcomed, and the beer even more so. After one long sip, she notices something move outside the window above the sink. A cloud? But it’s sunny. A hurried check confirms the fear that leapt into her brain. Not a cloud, but smoke. But where? Penny belts out the door and flies down the stairs. The shed is in flames. When she exited the house, it looked like the fire had only just started, but was increasing rapidly. She calculates that she needs water, now, so she swiftly turns for the hose.

         Racing down the side of the house, Penny suddenly crashes to the ground, face first and with no warning. Pain shoots upward from her ankle. What has happened is not clear to her. She is totally consumed by the fact the shed is fully engulfed now and she is worried it is going to spread to the nearest trees. She lurches forward only to fall once more. Her ankle will not support her. Crawling toward the hose, Penny starts to cough. Asthma and smoke don’t mix. It dawns on her that her inhaler is in the bathroom. She has to deal with the fire. She has to deal with not being able to breathe. She has to deal with the fact she can’t walk. It’s all too much and Penny lands on the ground yet again. Unsure of what to do, she is trying to think, but her head feels clogged. There are noises around her, but she can’t distinguish what they are. Her focus is on finding clean air while grasping at her now throbbing ankle.

         Immersed in her thoughts and predicament, Penny’s completely unaware when the first raindrops hit. She is soaked through before she realizes it is cascading down in proverbial buckets. It is soon followed by hail, with spheres the sizes of gumballs. They sting as they pelt her from head to toe. Where did this come from? Minutes ago, it was sunny and hot. She didn’t remember seeing any real clouds. Sometimes the world works in mysterious ways.

         Suddenly there are arms and voices and faces. None of them familiar to her. People. Actually, a number of people. In the rain and in the hail. They are moving her to inside the house. On the way upstairs, she sees there’s a firetruck now as well. The flames are gone and white smoke is diminishing above the sizzling structure that was the shed. Penny has never been so thrilled to see so many people around her. She feels like she can just melt into the attention and support. All is warm and cozy inside, while a storm briefly rages outdoors. A loud tearing of metal is heard as an eavestrough on the side of the house has come loose and is now precariously swinging above the edge of the patio.

         Later in the evening, Penny is sitting by the patio doors, ankle wrapped, and a glass of wine in hand. She stares out to the yard. It’s a disaster. In fact, the whole day had been a disaster. She is keenly aware there is no longer a dilapidated shed. It’s a change. She smiles, just a teeny smile. Then it broadens, and she catches herself with a “hahumph” in her throat. It starts out as a small giggle, but soon turns into full, rolling, gasping, uncontrolled laughter. Her eyes are watering, tears running down her face. Penny can sense joy returning to consume her mind and soul. Despite the setbacks of the day, it was hers and she was it. She is somehow restored. She will tackle the yard again, another day, with gusto and desire. Penny has her new beginning. Holding her wine glass high, she confidently states, “A toast to me. I can do anything.”