As you can probably tell from my lack of posts for the past couple of months, I’m losing my emotional involvement with my yard. Usually spring offers plenty of gardening photo opportunities, but lately I tend to just look and pass on by rather than document the beauties I see. Oh, I’m still doing the yard work, still waiting to see what blooms, still taking some pictures, but I’m doing so at a degree or two of separation. I’m not exactly sure why I started losing my enthusiasm. Perhaps because of the difficulty of keeping things green and blooming in this dry and sometimes harsh environment. Perhaps of a general feeling of detachment from life and a sense of the passing years. Perhaps because of . . . who knows.
Oddly, even though it hasn’t been that hot compared to previous springs — we’re just now getting up into the 90s — and even though I’ve been keeping up with the watering, the sun is so intense that the grass is already burning and flowering plants are wilting. I feel as if I should care, but I don’t, not really. Or maybe it’s that I don’t want to care. It does take a lot out of a person to plant flowers and greenery and tend them only to watch them struggle.
In a way, it’s not that big of a deal. I can replant grass and flowers and other vegetation. Or I can plant something else in the place of plants that don’t make it. For example, I had one large swath of grass left from the original sod I’d put in, but half of it died over the winter. (Which is odd in itself since all the rest died in the summer heat.) I couldn’t decide whether to replant the grass come fall or plant something else. In the end, I planted wildflowers instead of leaving the dead grass, and if I decide I want the grass, well, autumn (the best time to plant grass around here) is still a long way away. For another example, half of my ice plant that has spread so rapidly over the years also died in the winter, but I was able to replant.
So, not a big deal, but still . . .
I make it sound as if my garden is failing, but the truth is, it was prettier this spring than ever before.
Plenty of flowers planted themselves, such as the red poppies, and the larkspur. Other plants spread nicely. And some not so nicely. (I try to stay away from flowers that take over, but that’s not always easy to control since what should grow here doesn’t always and what shouldn’t sometimes does.)
This is always a rather unpretty time of year, which adds to my disinterest. The summer flowers haven’t yet budded. The larkspur is finished flowering but hasn’t yet gone to seed, so it makes the garden look rather drab. Once the larkspur and other self-planted annuals are finished, I can then replant so that August and September will be nice, but now it’s just a matter of keeping the yard — and me — going.
It’s funny — I waited all winter for this and now?
I’ve been sitting here thinking, wondering about that “and now?” and I have no response to that.
I have a hunch that once we settle into summer, I’ll be okay. Hot, but okay. There’s been just way too many weather changes lately to suit my poor aging mind and body — cloudiness and humidity and sprinkles of rain followed rapidly by sun and heat and then a repeat of the cycle.
At least I will have plenty of work to do outside to keep me occupied. In fact, I better close this off and go mow the grass.
Wishing you well.
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Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One.
Bertram's Blog 
June 11, 2025 at 2:46 pm
I’m finding my energy levels vary from month to month. Maybe it’s linked to the weather or the seasons, but I tend to associate it more with my age and health. I generally try to convince myself that it really doesn’t matter what gets done in the yard; that the cyclic nature of growth means, even if I ignore it, stuff will die out and either regrow or be replanted anyway.
That works for me until I remember that we’ve invited our church folks to hold their summer BBQ at our place just ten days from now! Then I look around and see peonies to stake, weeds to pull, flower containers to fertilize, a lawn to mow and edge, a deck to clean, etc…and despair of having everything looking ‘perfect’.
We moved away from our acreage because the yard work was becoming too onerous, but even this smaller yard can challenge us, especially when the enthusiasm just isn’t there. I sympathize with your sense of ‘detachment’. I think we’ll make whatever current effort is necessary, and then after the BBQ will be content to sit back and let summer have its way with the yard!
June 12, 2025 at 4:56 pm
Best of luck getting ready for the BBQ. I don’t know if it makes this easier knowing one has a deadline, or if it makes it harder knowing one has a deadline. Either way, I’m sure, your yard will look great — maybe not to you, but to your guests.
Luckily, I don’t have a deadline. I’m gradually clearing out the spent annuals, clearing out around the perennials that were buried among the larkspur, and filling in the spots where plants disappeared. Mostly, I’m trying to convince myself that the browning grass doesn’t bother me, and occasionally I even succeed.
It’s funny — I’d been waiting to get the energy to do the work, but it finally dawned on me that my feeling of detachment, of feeling not-quite-right isn’t something I can recover from but is age making itself felt. So I’ve decided best thing is to forge ahead with whatever I can manage to do and to try not worry about the rest.
June 13, 2025 at 10:18 am
Being kind to ourselves and just doing what we can is a good approach. My hubby and I are frequently frustrated by the age-related limitations that we know will never improve — there’s so much that we used to be able to do that defeats us now — but I guess we should look on the bright side and be thankful that there are things we can still do.
June 13, 2025 at 4:01 pm
Good philosophy. I’m pretty much just at the start of serious age-related limitations, so I am especially appreciative of still being able to do what needs to be done.
July 14, 2025 at 10:46 am
Hi Pat. I’ve missed your posts. It’s been a
long time since I discovered your column, shortly after I lost my husband in July 2016. And now it’s coming up on the 9th year since he died. Your personal responses to my writings of agony and despair following his death helped me more than I can say. I remember your writing of your own love, Jeff, and how his death affected you. We never get over that trauma to the soul, do we? I certainly related to your description of apathy towards your yard work !!! My age and constant pain from my back has affected my interest in my yard work as well. With the help of my handyman, my plantings have put in, but not with the enthusiasm of past years. I think of what the Lord said to Adam and Eve about working by the sweat of the brow, after their sin in The Garden. It certainly applies to my efforts along with the promise of weeds and thistle. An endless cycle of hard work with little to show for it. Same thing with the frog pond I put in 8 years ago, I keep it up as best as I can, with the help of my handyman, but unfortunately, the devilish garter snakes around here have wiped them out. In my case, I lost the spark in my life when I lost him. Even after almost 9 years. I loved him too much. But at age 74, I’m grateful to God for waking me up each day so far. I still want to live, even with his absence. It’s just hard to go on with the limitations of age, and pain. However, my personal hope still springs eternal, even if it’s a little dimmer these days. If the Lord grants me another early spring, I’m sure I’ll have the same awakening in my soul, and desire for dirty hands planting tomato and pepper transplants, along with bright and colorful annuals to put in various containers. Even though we know the weeds are also on the way, we still plant, don’t we??? And it’s okay that our yards aren’t magazine perfect, it’s ok to let some weeds be… despite the hole in our hearts, we want to go on, we must go on for the time being.
July 15, 2025 at 10:32 am
It’s so good to hear from you! The main drawback to my lack of interest in writing is that I don’t get to know how the people I “met” through this blog are doing. I’m glad you’re still getting up each day and trying to live the best you can. It is hard when one is alone except for that hole in one’s heart, but there’s always hope. It is funny, though, how despite all the limitations and the lingering sadness that we still want to live. Thank you so much for your note and your comments. You made my day. Best wishes.
July 14, 2025 at 11:58 am
Hi Pat this is Karen, or my other name, Lovey. I just wrote