The Garden Plot

Lillian stares at the raised three-by-six-foot empty bed of earth with dismay. Behind and beside her, others' plots display a profusion of color, greenery, and life. Hers, much like the plot where she buried her husband six months ago, is a bleak, dark space.

"Enough of that", thinks Lillian, straightening her spine. "I resolved to make a fresh start, to think positively and restart my life."

Her wheelbarrow is parked beside her, stuffed with gardening supplies. She removes bags of compost, sand, vermiculite, and perlite. She clips the labels off a variety of small, shiny, purple-handled gardening tools and two pairs of gardening gloves. There are small pots of tomatoes, basil, and parsley. She places pots of tomato plants, basil, and parsley near the edges of the planter. Still in the wheelbarrow are tulip bulbs, seeds for carrots and marigolds, plus a plastic bucket and a metal watering can decorated with sunflowers. She also bought a metal wind chime to scare off birds. Lillian starts to think she was a bit overzealous in her purchases.

After pulling on a pair of lavender gardening gloves, she grabs a hand cultivator and starts loosening the soil. As she works, she thinks about what brought her to this place. After Joe passed away, Lillian assuaged her grief with nature and gardening documentaries, imagining herself in a calmer, greener place. Initially, she was attracted to the shows' soporific qualities, but as she started to heal, she realized that some of the information had settled into her mind, growing into a plan for restarting her life.

Within six months, she'd sorted and tossed, donated and boxed her household goods and most of her furnishings from their thirty-year-old three-bedroom home. Now she lived in a new one-bedroom condo in an active adult community. The available garden plots were just one of many perks that attracted her to the development. She moved there determined to use the fitness room, attend events, and do everything she could to run from her loss.

While mindlessly turning over the soil, breaking up clumps of dirt, and tossing old roots into her bucket, she suddenly and unexpectedly finds herself overcome with grief.

"Oh, Joe", she whispers to herself, "I thought I had everything under control. I made lists and organized and kept my chin up, but everything's finished now. I feel so lost without you."

Collapsing onto a nearby well-worn gardening stool, Lillian puts her head in her hands and weeps. She was always a career woman, a dynamo in her office, juggling clients and tasks with complete efficiency. She organized her home in much the same way, with lists and schedules that never deviated from week to week. But then, with Joe's brief illness and death, her carefully controlled life slipped away from her.

Once she'd gotten over the initial shock, she decided to pivot. That was the term they used these days, wasn't it, when suddenly life took an unexpected turn. At sixty-three, she was still energetic. She had her mind, her health, and her hair was barely gray in the right light. She wasn't old, she didn't even qualify for Social Security or Medicare yet! With Joe's life insurance as a buffer until those things kicked in, she covered her expenses with her 401K, savings, and innate frugality.

She grabs a tissue from the pocket of her carefully creased dark indigo jeans and wipes her eyes, looking at the empty plot and the wheelbarrow stuffed with gardening supplies that she's never touched in her life. She feels completely overwhelmed.

"What was I thinking?" she moans. "Gardening? Canning? Cooking with fresh herbs? I can't turn myself into Pioneer Woman overnight!" For Lillian, meal preparation was whatever she could throw together out of boxed and canned goods, order for delivery, or the occasional indulgence at a moderately priced restaurant. Joe never seemed to mind. He never complained. But was she a good enough wife? Her faults and failures rise to the surface, compounding her grief.

As Lillian weeps and berates herself, she feels a slight shadow, a presence. Looking up, she sees a short, older woman standing nearby. Her well-worn denim overalls, faded beige t-shirt, and brown work boots are enlivened by her sparkling blue eyes, a slight dash of pink lipstick, and carefully styled white hair. Her gnarled hands clutch at a walker. The woman is studying her patiently, with a calmness that wordlessly breaks through Lillian's disquiet.

"Sorry", Lillian says as she takes a tissue from her pocket and dabs at her eyes.

"Nothing to be sorry for", the woman replies. "You haven't offended me. I've done plenty of weeping in my life. Any woman has. I'm Virginia."

"Lillian", replies Lillian. "Thank you for understanding. I lost my husband six months ago. And somehow, I also seem to have misplaced myself. I thought a few vegetables and flowers could turn me into a new woman, but now I realize how impossible that is. I've never gardened in my life!" She pauses, crushing her tissue into a tight ball. "I'm just feeling overwhelmed and sorry for myself."

Ginny thoughtfully inspects the contents of Lillian's wheelbarrow and her small empty garden plot. "A bit of a Herculean task you've set for yourself. You have enough supplies for half the plots here", she chuckles not unkindly.

Lillian smiles wanly. "I suppose I do. Most of it is unused or unopened, and I still have receipts. I always keep receipts for at least 3 months. I could return a lot of this".

"No need for that". Virginia tottered closer, peering carefully at her supplies. "You've made some smart purchases, just overdone it a bit. I know several residents here would love to take some of it off your hands. They'd be happy to pay you in cash or trade. If you're in a giving mood, you can just put extra soil, mulch, seeds, containers, and so forth in the communal potting shed." She points to a small blue and white building at the opposite corner of the gardening area. "We do a lot of exchanges here. Saves time and money. Most of us have a lot of free time on our hands, but at our age, time is also very precious."

Lillian stands and begins to repack the scattered contents of her wheelbarrow. "I thought I knew exactly what to do, but it looks like I need to do more research before tackling this. I need to make a detailed list of instructions for myself before I dig in." She smiles slightly at her pun.

Virginia's voice breaks into her activity. "I could help you".

Lillian glances at her, takes in her walker, her arthritic hands, and quickly looks away again. "I appreciate that, but I should probably handle this myself".

Virginia straightens up slightly, wryly declaring, "I might be of more use than I appear these days. I did quite a bit of gardening in my day." She looks down at her walker while flexing the arthritic joints of her fingers slowly. "You'll be doing me a favor", she adds wistfully.

Finally understanding, Lillian smiles. "Where do we begin?"

Raising an eyebrow, Virginia scrutinizes Lillian's pristine white cotton blouse, her carefully creased jeans, and white athletic shoes. Catching the meaning of her look, Lillian blushes lightly.

"The women always look so well put together on the television gardening shows. I didn't think...", she trails off. "But everything is washable. I'll wear something a bit more suited to the task next time".

Virginia smiles indulgently and guides Lillian in preparing the soil and sowing the marigold seeds around the edge of the wooden container. She guides the spacing of her tomato plants and parsley. As a final touch, Lillian placed the tinkling wind chimes in the center of the plot.

"You don't need the tomato cages until the plants get bigger", she informs Lillian. "When it's time, I'll let you know. As for those carrots and the basil, there isn't enough room for proper spacing in your garden. On which side of the building is your balcony?

"Southeast"

"Perfect. Let's head to the shed. I'll show you which pots or buckets to get. They need enough room and proper drainage. You can plant the basil and carrots in those. They'll love the sun on your balcony. As for the tulip bulbs, I'll show you how to wrap those for storage in your refrigerator until fall. That's the best time to plant those".

Tasks completed, tools and supplies put away or donated to the community, Lillian sits with Virginia on a wooden bench at the edge of the communal yard, the scent of moist earth, flowers, and herbs filling the air.

"Thank you so much for all your help!" Lillian turns toward Virginia, "I'm impressed by your knowledge. Did you grow up on a farm?"

"No, my mother kept a simple kitchen garden, but she loved maintaining it and instilled that love in me. I majored in horticulture and got a job at a large property in southern Maryland. I worked my way up, eventually managing the gardens on the estate. The house wasn't famous for anything, but it was architecturally stunning, so the owner wanted to showcase it with beautiful surroundings".

The two women were silent for a few minutes, in deep contemplation, looking out over the gardens and the open fields beyond.

Lillian placed her hand gently over Virginia's. "After meeting you and working together, I feel so much more hopeful and less alone".

Softly, came a reply, "So do I".