I feel as though I’ve been hibernating.
A few moments ago, I sat on my deck and contemplated the sorry state my deck has fallen in to. We have lived in this house for seven years now. This house is the first house I’ve owned and I’m still not convinced that owning is better than renting.
Every spring, since we bought this house, I have gone through a burst of enthusiasm for gardening. I planted grasses which resulted in me being attacked by fire ants. I planted Rose of Sharon bushes that came from starts from my mother in law’s garden. I have killed hundreds and hundreds of dollars in bushes, trees, and plants. I watched a lilac bush go from barely a twig to a tenacious tiny bush that refuses to die. In five years, it’s grown about 12 inches. Each spring I am certain the lilac bush will be dead and each spring it grows just a little more.
I filled a few dozen pots with annuals every spring. Usually petunias because they are the the hardest to kill. My deck, from the first year we lived here, has been vibrant, huge, and over the top. Randy would hang Chinese lanterns. We burned candles and incense. Music played non-stop. We had mini vacations every weekend.
Not this year.
I didn’t plant a single flower.
Randy and I have spent some time on the deck, but very little. The Chinese lanterns haven’t come out even once.
I’ve been more depressed and anxious in my life than I am now. Certainly, when I was a child and a teenager. My twenties and into my early thirties were worse.
But it’s been better since. Until this summer.
This is not the worst it has ever been, but it has sucked some major fucking ass.
I feel like I’ve been asleep for months. I hibernated over the spring and summer. I hibernated wrong.
Anyway, I sat I my deck and contemplated the sad state of my yard. I noticed that a broken down flower pot in the corner had a petunia growing in it. A petunia came back from last year. There is also a huge thistle and another weed that looks like it might turn into Audrey III in the broke ass flower pot. Still, the petunia is thriving.
I thought how sad. That poor little flower living with the scary weeds. No brothers or sisters to be pretty with. The little flower resurrected itself to find that life wasn’t what it remembered.
I created a dystopian future for my flowers. Fucking hell. I Mad Max’d the petunias.
Then I decided that it doesn’t matter where the petunias are growing. Petunias don’t stop being petunias just because there are weeds around. Petunias growing in botanical gardens, shopping malls, zoos and golf courses are no more or less petunias than the petunias in my broke ass flower pot. My sad little petunia is still just as pretty.
As I decided to appreciate my unexpected flowers instead of focusing what I failed to do this season, I heard some birds squabbling at one of Randy’s bird feeders.
For a moment, I thought it was spring and that it was time for the annual bird rape that happens in my backyard every season. I forgot, for a moment, that spring had passed and summer is already dying. The birds at the feeder were just squabbling. I bet they were brothers.
I don’t feel like I’m awake yet, but I am starting to feel like I might get there.
Just in time for hibernation season.
I don’t want to mourn that I’ve lost the spring and summer this year. I am not good at mourning or grieving.
That doesn’t mean I won’t, though. I’m tired of believing that I’m doing feelings wrong. I am constantly at odds with myself.
Don’t feel that way. No. Wouldn’t it be better to be grateful that you’re starting to feel better than to whine about the changing season? Isn’t feeling better what you should focus on?
Or maybe I could just accept that it sucks I missed most of the warm weather and it’s okay to feel bad about it sucking.
I am not ready for everything to die again. I’m not ready for this season to change.
I remember I felt this way last year. I was anxious about summer ending. I even wrote about it. If current me could go back and talk to me from last year, I’d tell her to appreciate the goddamn pumpkin spice because she has a shitstorm in front of her.
I watched the birds again and thought how short and brutal their lives could be. There are cats and windshields everywhere.
Those fucking birds didn’t care. They’re weren’t worrying about cars and felines. They squabbled. They flew back and forth between the dead trees and Randy’s feeders. Just doing what birds do.
I kind of envy the birds.
A little red breasted, black and white hummingbird buzzed by. I’ve been seeing him around the past week or so. I love the hummingbirds, they make me laugh.
I feel a little better.
Not great. I’m still not ready to come out of hibernation. But I think I might soon.