I am a gardener.  

I’ve begun at least four memoir pieces with that sentence but honestly, I wondered if I would ever really feel like I was that declaration again.  At the blue Victorian that we moved to from Madison and in which we spent the Covid years, I cultivated a small vegetable patch that was shaded part of the day by the houses around it.  It is never a glorious garden but it gave us something to do that first summer of shut down and there were tomatoes and greens and peppers and a small pumpkin. 

Early on in my tenancy at our present house, I asked the landlord if I could garden.  The foundation planting was sparse and old. There must have been other shrubs and bushes at one time but what was left was four plants spread far apart and planted up close to the house.  

My landlord said I could do what I wanted to do and even volunteered a bit of help—his landscapers trimmed bushes that needed the trimming and even took the grass up when I decided on the shape of the front garden bed.  

I started planning the front bed while I was sick and unable to do much running around.  As I began the planning, I wondered if it made sense to invest in a garden that would take a few years to develop and cultivate in a rental house but I came to the idea that I have made three gardens, each in a house that I owned.  But that after planting and tending and loving those gardens, I sold the houses and left those gardens. And it wasn’t so much the beauty of the gardens that I was/am most attached to, it is the process of making a garden and making a garden in the front of this house that we live in would give me pleasure.  

And so, last Saturday, Julia and I went to three garden centers looking for the exact plants that were in my plan, and the next day, I planted nine good sized plants through the afternoon.  My plan was to plant four or five and do the rest the next day, but it was so good to get them all in the ground.

I was garden sore on Monday—why the muscles used to garden different from those used to work out at the gym I have no idea—but happy.  

And able to claim again that I am a gardener.

In other doings, the month has been busy.

Spending some Fridays with Wilbur, we got to build towers with Elmo.

Eat lunch and sing loudly.

Play music.

And be silly.

Julia, Ed and I went to Sandy Island in New Hampshire on the annual FUUSN retreat over Memorial Day.

The next weekend, Julia and I went with Cheshire, Justin and Wilbur up to Geneva, New York.  Cheshire and Justin attended a family wedding and festivities and Julia and I got to watch the little boy!

We observed Pride walking with FUUSN in the Boston Pride Parade.

And last weekend, Julia attended a Charles River Center dance on Friday evening and actually volunteered to wear a dress. Then, Saturday was the Boston Fan Con.  Julia decided she didn’t want to work at it like she did for the last two years.  Instead we enjoyed the day at panels, screenings and a big cosplay show. 

And there is still a good deal of June left to enjoy.