A Day in the Life of a Gardener

I’ve never particularly liked a-day-in-the-life-of-whatever blogs, either reading or writing them, but it’s finally dawning on me that’s what I do. I started out blogging about a day in the life of a writer, then went on to write about a day in the life of a griever. Later I blogged about a day in the life of a dancer, hiker, traveler, new homeowner.

And now, apparently, I am writing day-in-the-life-of-a-gardener blogs. Although I do things with my days other than garden, I can’t write about my job as a caregiver, because those hours belong to the client. Although I occasionally slip in a blog about the myriad books I’m reading, for the most part, when I close a book, that’s the end of it for me. I also spend way more time than might be good for me on a hidden object game, but it’s not interesting to talk about except perhaps to mention that I con myself into believing that the game is exercising my brain. (I tend to think it’s more ruinous for my eyes than good for my brain, but that’s what a con is — making one believe something that might not be true.)

So that leaves . . . gardening.

With that lead up, I’m sure you can guess what today’s blog is about. Yes, you guessed correctly — a day in the life of a gardener.

It’s not really that exciting a day, to be honest. The night never cooled off much, so it was already hot at daybreak, and the rising sun only added more heat to the day. Even though I was out early, I didn’t have much energy to do anything very arduous, so I watered my plants and then harvested the larkspur seeds that are ready. They are tiny things that look like poppy seeds, but luckily, they grow in a small pod that’s easy to get to. A lot of the seeds will fall wherever they will, but those I harvest will be strewn in strategic places in my yard next fall. The photo, of course, is the way the plants looked before they went to seed. It’s possible that after the seeds fall, I’ll have resurgence of flowers later in the summer.

Despite the ever-rising heat, I still managed to drag myself around the yard to take photos of the newest developments:

A white hollyhock next to the pink.

The latest blooms on the dahlia.

A few bachelor buttons that volunteered to grow in my yard.

And what might be the last cactus flower of the season.

I’m also starting to make a list of things that will need to be done in the fall besides plant the larkspur seeds, such as replant the New England aster. I notice there are several plants now where there once was but a single plant, and I’d like to spread them out. The photo is from last year. Because they are a fall-blooming flower, I won’t see any blossoms for a few more months.

It amazes me that I am starting to think of myself as a gardener. I’m really just a dilettante still, but with practice, I will become more expert. And then there will be more and prettier photos for my day-in-the-life-of-a gardener blogs.


Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One. “Grief: The Inside Story is perfect and that is not hyperbole! It is exactly what folk who are grieving need to read.” –Leesa Healy, RN, GDAS GDAT, Emotional/Mental Health Therapist & Educator

12 Responses to “A Day in the Life of a Gardener”

  1. Uthayanan Says:

    Hi gardener enthusiast. Beautiful and lovely photos. What I admire variety of colors. I have to add one more. “ I blogged about a day in the life of a dancer, hiker, traveler, new homeowner”
    photographer ! Naturally you take beautiful photos.
    I feel you are going to become a good gardener. Practice make perfect.

  2. Antonella Totino Says:

    How did you get through all these years without your husband? You mentioned it’s been 11 years. I’m struggling with days.

    • Pat Bertram Says:

      I don’t know how I got through. I tried to take it as it came, tears, screaming, pain, grief upsurges, and all the rest of it. I walked miles to burn off the stress. At about three and a half years, where you are now, I started to get interested in other things, such as dance classes. I still had grief upsurges, but they stopped coming as frequently, though they were still as potent. It wasn’t until the seventh year that grief generally left me alone. And it wasn’t until the tenth year until I started to feel as if I were myself. Long years, lived one day at a time. If you haven’t yet checked out my grief archive, you can find it here: https://bertramsblog.com/archives-grief-posts/ You can scroll down to the fourth year and beyond to track my progress, though I’m not sure “progress” is the right word. It’s still hard at three-and-a-half years, not just because of the continued bouts of pain and sorrow, but because by then everyone has lost sympathy for you. I am truly sorry you are having to deal with all this, but one reason I continue to write this blog, even though it’s not so much about grief anymore, is to give hope to grievers that there is still life despite the sorrow.

      • Uthayanan Says:

        Pat please I repeat the same words of Estragon Says:
        “ Don’t underestimate the value of the “give hope to grievers that there is still life despite the sorrow” thing. It helps.“
        Estragon one of the person I admire and appreciate what he writes even though sometimes it is difficult to understand because of my lack of my English language knowledge.
        All the words you write for grief people help me always to understand better grief and life.

      • Antonella Totino Says:

        Hi, Pat
        I have been reading through your grief posts and they are piercing my heart.
        The Great Yearning, navigated me through those dreadful, heartwrenching early days and now
        I’ve come across the post ” how careless” and the term ” losing” someone. Wow.
        How careless of me that I didn’t hold him closer, love him harder, protect him more, how could I have lost him without fighting harder to get him cured. Careless.
        As you yourself commented, the word “careless” really affected you.
        It has hit me right in the gut.
        I guess, I needed to read it to go through it.
        Thankyou for your honesty.


        • Pat Bertram Says:

          I’d forgotten that post, so I had to check to see what I wrote, and it affected me even now. Still, no matter how careless we seem to have been back when they were dying, the truth is, we did the best we knew how at the time.

  3. Estragon Says:

    Don’t underestimate the value of the “give hope to grievers that there is still life despite the sorrow” thing. It helps.

    Also, your blog – your rules. If you want to write about a “hidden object game”, go for it. You may be paid for your time as a caregiver, but that doesn’t make the entire experience proprietary to the client. Without betraying any confidences, I don’t see how writing about the experience generally should be off-limits.

  4. budhathokiasmin997526 Says:


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