Family, Garden, Life

Weeding

Kari

I’ve been thinking about everyday things like laundry and weeding as things that never really end. There will always be laundry. There will always be weeds, not as a frustration, but as an honest fact of being alive. Nothing is ever finished.

My friend Nicole wrote about that recently. I’ve been noticing how much I get pulled into convenience without even realizing it. Social media, scrolling, the constant sense that I should be catching up or doing things faster or more efficiently. I don’t move through my days with the same intention I used to.

Before

And Nicole’s words made me pause on that.

Because the truth is, a lot of life is repetitive. Not in a dull way, but in a steady-returning way. Laundry comes back. Weeds come back. Dishes come back. Care comes back. Attention comes back.

After

Over the last few days, I’ve been outside in my garden again, just tending to things a little at a time. Weeding, resting, coming back when I need to. My body doesn’t move the way it used to, so I’ve been learning to listen to that instead of pushing past it.

There’s something grounding about being in the soil, using my hands, paying attention to what is right in front of me instead of what is trying to pull me elsewhere.

The window well above my dad’s workbench – something always finds a way back

It feels meditative, not the kind of meditation where everything goes quiet, but the kind where your attention settles into something physical and real. Dirt, roots, the slow work of pulling one thing at a time.

The other window well – not everything does

I even went over to my mom’s house and helped in her yard too. I could feel my dad there, in the familiar weight of the work, in being outside doing something he would have loved.

What I keep thinking about is how easily we forget that not everything is meant to be finished. Some things are meant to return. There’s something good in that. Not as a burden, but as a rhythm that brings us back into our lives.

New Jersey tea, right where we spread his ashes. He never really left New Jersey. I don’t believe in coincidences.

I don’t know what’s kept me out of the garden over the last couple of years. Maybe it’s grief. Maybe it’s the way it reminds me of my dad. Or maybe it’s just getting older and moving through life differently. I’m grateful for my friend and her words, and the gentle push she gave me without even knowing it.

Now talk to me in July when it’s 90 degrees.

Found this morning in my soul homework
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54 thoughts on “Weeding”

  1. I used to despise weeding. Such a never ending chore. But now that my knee is so bad I can’t kneel or crouch? I actually miss it. My beds don’t look nearly as good as they used to.
    😰

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    1. I don’t think I’ll ever reach that point. If you’re ever up to the task and missing it that badly, you’re welcome to stop by MarTar Manor and pull weeds to your heart’s content!

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  2. I agree with you that working in the garden is grounding. Growing up in Washington state everyone had gardens and everything grew. I don’t have a graden in the desert. I never got the hang of it. But I do pull weeds that come up after a big rain in our front yard.

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  3. What in the world? I’ve never heard of New Jersey Tea, but how COOL is that? I love that so much for you!

    As much as I enjoy gardens, flowers, etc., I’m not much of a weed puller or get in the dirt sort. But I do enjoy maintaining, meaning pruning (I call it giving them a haircut) the bushes around our home. And there really is something about the repetitive tasks that is reassuring. We are here and we are living life.

    I hope your last week of May is full of beauty and warmth. XO

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    1. I’d never heard of it until I looked it up that day — so cool!

      I’m with you on gardening. I see Nicole’s beautiful gardens and I know that will never be me — maintaining is a lot of hard work that I’m just not up for. But I do love repetitive tasks, which is probably why I get so much enjoyment out of cleaning my house. Most of the time, anyway — not all the time! 🤣

      It’s been beautiful so far. I hope the same for you, my friend. 😘

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  4. I connect so much to this essay. I also found that grief saw me stepping back from the minutiae of life. My “puttering” got much less. I didn’t bother so much with yard work, housework, or self-care. I think it was a combination of sorrow, anger, and a feeling that things were a little pointless.
    A “Why bother if people die” kind of subconscious echo pushing – or halting, I suppose – my behaviours to an extent.
    I find myself getting more involved with life and all that goes with it this year as well. It appears grief has a season. I seem to be ready to get more involved with the business of living again.

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    1. Puttering! Yes! And it’s funny — one of my dad’s favorite things to do in retirement was exactly that. I’ve been doing so much less of it since he died.

      The pointlessness is real, and honestly, it’s been part of why I’ve struggled with eating too — that “why bother taking care of myself if it’s all pointless anyway” spiral. It’s something I’m still sitting with.

      But thank you for naming the “why bother if people die” feeling in my comment section. I felt that way for two solid years, and I’m only just slowly starting to come out of it — like dipping a toe into the pool of… well, maybe I should care.

      Here’s to being in more of a living season, my friend. 😘

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  5. I totally agree. In the moments I push “more pressing” things to the side, and go and address the needs of one little faltering boxwood, trimming the dead spots and shaping it – or just weeding – I feel more centered in some way. It’s a rhythm all its own, and the result is always worth it. It’s the ultimate non-digital. Good point! 😊

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    1. Yes! There’s something almost meditative about it — the world doesn’t get quieter, but you do. That boxwood doesn’t care about your inbox or your to-do list. It just needs you, present, right now. I think that’s exactly the point. The “unimportant” things have a way of being the most grounding. 💜

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  6. I actually refer to dishes as “ceramic laundry” since it is definitely as never ending as actual laundry. Weeding I’m not so great with keeping up on.. I do real well this time of year but come July and August I pretty much hate spending time in the garden so tend not to do much.

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    1. Ceramic laundry! That is so funny! NEVER ENDING.

      I’m exactly like you, Joanne. So I’m spending as much time in the garden now before it gets too hot.

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  7. I think connecting to the earth – the sustainer of life and container of death – is needed and healing for the heart, mind and body. Doesn’t matter if we’re planting flowers or weeding or walking barefoot on the grass. It’s like a physical meditation.

    You’re absolutely right that there’s certain things in life we will never catch up on…weeding and laundry are two big ones. It’s like shoveling while it’s still snowing. ;-) We are overloaded with Creeping Charlie (a very invasive weed) and I can only pull so much before I give up.

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    1. The Sustainer of life and container of death- I’ve never heard worded that way Melanie I love that.

      I like the idea of physical meditation too, and you seem so naturally good at that.

      And shoveling while it’s still snowing really is funny—and true. Someone once said it’s like brushing your teeth while eating Oreos, and that made me laugh so hard.

      I was reading my friend Mark’s blog last week and so many people in the comments were talking about Creeping Charlie. I don’t have that, but I do have an invasive weed called bindweed. It’s toxic! It’s been in my yard since the day we moved into this house, and I always wondered why my hands and arms would itch when I pulled weeds without gloves. Now I know!

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      1. I didn’t even know we had bindweed in our area! I always heard an online friend on the east coast talk about how invasive bindweed is on her property. I guess at least creeping charlie isn’t toxic! ;-)

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  8. This is so lovely, Kari. I love the idea that many things aren’t meant to be finished. I’ve learned that well the past few years as I’ve gotten slower and achier. It’s actually really nice to do a little at a time. I feel the same way about art as you do about your garden. It’s a type of meditation – it requires my complete attention and everything else disappears.

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    1. Thank you so much, Michelle! I love the idea too. Maybe it’s an idea that only age can teach us? I’ve taken a few days away from my garden already, I’m not nearly as diligent as Nicole is, but she really did inspire me. I think I’ll always think of her when I take my 30 minutes a day to weed. 🩷

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  9. “…not everything is meant to be finished”

    I need to sit with this for a bit. I spend so much time trying to finish things I assumed everything has an end. Your comment just flipped the switch. Interesting…. Thank you.

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  11. Thanks, Kari. I was just thinking about this but didn’t have the beautiful words for it as you’ve shared here. At the Market where I’ve been working, we work so hard when we get deliveries to get everything on the shelves for people. I love that feeling of working hard and then seeing it all lined up nicely. And then the other day, it became clear to me that, shit, we’re never done! Shoppers buy things and we keep getting more deliveries and have to do the same things over and over again. I appreciate your words and different ways of thinking about things that are repetitive. Yesterday I thought I’m going to try to be more zen and appreciate every aspect of every task and be in the moment with it … maybe even saying, I’m unpacking cookies … without judgement or going further along in my head like, I hate unpacking these, they’re just going to get eaten and we’ll have to do this again. Anyway, a small example but akin to what you write. So much of life is repetitive. And if we can honor that, what a blessing.
    PS. I like the pictures. I didn’t know there was such a thing as New Jersey tea! I like thinking I learned something from your dad today!

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    1. That moment you described at the Market really resonates—getting everything unpacked and lined up, and then realizing it just keeps coming again.

      I think that’s what hit me too, just in a different way. So much of my life has lived in that space of things never really being fully done—chores, doing most of the raising of our children, errands. I used to feel pretty resentful of that. Although now that I’m getting some of that time back, I do miss parts of it.

      For a long time, I don’t think I had anything in my life that felt finished. And then I wrote a book, even though it wasn’t published, and there was still something about it having an ending. And with this blog, I get these small endings too—posts I can complete and send out.

      I didn’t know about New Jersey tea either! I loved learning about it too—it felt like a little gift. 💜

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  12. “What I keep thinking about is how easily we forget that not everything is meant to be finished.”

    MAAM. That’s a hellava line. Had me staring off into the middle distance over here

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  13. I’m glad someone finds weeding meditative. I literally just wrote on someone else’s blog that if someone can’t give us answers about my husband’s rhabdo situation so he can help in the yard, I’m going to burn down the whole thing. I’m so sick of it. I hate it. Please send me some of your yardwork zen.

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    1. Burn the yard down… you sound like me before I read Nicole’s post. I did say to Mike last week that our yard isn’t sustainable for us as we get older. We’ll probably need to move to a condo if I want to stay even remotely zen. 🤣

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  14. I’m able to do very little yardwork anymore, and I actually do miss it. Even weeding! Granted, my herb garden is very small, but I love the feeling of accomplishment and the feeling of taking good care of my herbs.

    Weeding may seem endless, but you do get them cleared out and see the reward for your efforts each time. I love that for the same reason I liked shoveling snow–progress is clear and completion of the task is concrete. After teaching for 30+ years, it’s a joy to actually see an end product, to actually finish something, which wasn’t always the case as an educator. There was always kids doing makeup work, putting together missed assignments/tests for absent kids, constantly giving makeup tests and quizzes. Only at the end of the year did I ever see true completion. And you’d be surprised at how many kids (and parents!) would still call the school after final grades came out, asking if there was anything they could do to raise their grade!

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    1. I feel like with each year, I’m able to enjoy being outside less and less, and I think that’s mostly because of migraines—especially when it gets hot. But I love being outside in the spring and getting the garden ready. I hope I can keep up with weeding… I won’t promise it in the heat of summer though. 🤣

      That makes sense after 30+ years of teaching—nothing really ever feels finished in the same way. It just keeps going, looping back, never quite done. Even the end of the school year sounds more like a pause than a true ending.

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  15. I love that you reconnected with your outdoor space! ..especially since you have memories of your Dad there. I was never a big planter or weeder, but I did enjoy my potted herb garden. Things have changed since we moved! ..and I don’t mind one bit. I have 1 pot on our back patio. Yup. That’s it..lol. She’ll be a beauty because I only have room for one and she’ll get my full attention!

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    1. I envy your new garden situation! I’ve already told Mike that as we’re getting older, we need to downsize — and that includes the yard. A patio garden sounds absolutely lovely, and just enough commitment for me. 😂

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      1. Right? I keep asking Jack if he misses cleaning the outside furniture, mulching, weeding, and planting a garden. His comment? No..lol

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  16. I swear, half my summer is spent weeding. I just saw new weeds growing in the bed I weeded two weeks ago. It’s maddening. Makes me want to cover the whole property in concrete.

    I don’t believe in coincidences either. The New Jersey tea is wild! Talk about a sign.

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  17. I love this. I often lament about never being done with things—like, it never ends and possibly because it actually NEVER ends.

    “how easily we forget that not everything is meant to be finished.”

    Thank you for the reminder.

    I’m glad you are getting out there, in the dirt, with your dad.

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  18. “My body doesn’t move the way it used to, so I’ve been learning to listen to that instead of pushing past it.”

    Kari, that is sooooooooo wise of you because it’s the absolute truth — our bodies don’t move the way they used to. However, what I will also say is that even though my body has morphed over the years, I’ve noticed that “I” have morphed as well — and in very positive ways. As we age, our perspective on what is important and what is not important changes as well. We seem to let go of the excesses (worry and wonder). We start “going with the flow” and allow life to take us where we need to go — the here and NOW, instead of being pulled elsewhere.

    Fantastic post, my friend! It was a great reminder to me. THANK YOU!

    And yes, talk to me in July with it’s 90 degrees LOL! Although, I will say, we’ve already had 98 degree weather – last month.

    Stay cool, and have a super week! X

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    1. Going with the flow—yesss. I understand that phrase so much more now than I did when I was younger.

      Thank YOU for your comment, my friend.

      Oh no, that is way too early! We’ve had a beautiful spring so far. Today I even have a cardigan on. Here’s hoping we can stay cool a little longer.

      I hope you have a super week as well, my friend. 😘💜

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  19. I missed this last week. Too much in the weeds. (hah) I think I may have told you about a time that shifted how I look at the tasks that are never done. I’d just gotten a message from an old early love of mine, that he was dying, on hospice. And there was laundry to do, so I went and began folding clothes from the dryer, and it struck me that he was likely never going to do laundry again. It struck me that many of us reach a time when those tasks are done, for us, and when that happens, we are nearly done. It’s changed how I approach laundry and dishes and weeding, even all these years later. When I find myself sighing about it, I remember Kris, and everything shifts. (Also, I totally get not engaging with things you once found pleasure in when you’re in deep grief. Things just lose their meaning. It comes back, I think. Or some version of it does. Glad you’re finding yourself again.)

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    1. Oh, friend. I’m so sorry. That moment you described… it lands deeply. It changes the way you hold even the smallest, most ordinary tasks. I can understand why it still comes back to you all these years later.

      And yes—grief has a way of changing the texture of everything. Even the things we used to reach for without thinkings. See, this is the shit I wish we could talk over coffee. Sigh. 💜

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  21. I was so confused when I read the opening paragraph of your post as I’d mis-read the title as “Wedding” rather that “weeding”. Oops!

    That said, I loved what you wrote about those aspects of life which require our attention on a constantly rolling cycle. As you say, there’s a certain meditative aspect to the ability to do something so familiar you’re almost operating on automatic pilot, allowing your mind to go wherever it wishes.

    Himself has been unwell in the past few weeks with back trouble, so I’ve been in the kitchen again, cooking, clearing, cleaning, washing-up. I thought I’d hate returning to the “everything in the kitchen is my responsibility” state, but I found myself humming and doing a little dance while cooking the other day. It makes me wonder what other aspects of my life I might be unexpectedly missing.

    Thanks as ever Kari for a thoughtful & thought-provoking essay 💕

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    1. Ha! A post about a wedding would have been much more exciting than a post about weeding. 😊

      What you wrote about being back in the kitchen really struck me. I love that image of you humming and doing a little dance while cooking. It’s such a good example of what I was trying to get at in the post. Sometimes we assume we’ll resent a task until we’re doing it, and then we discover something comforting or familiar hidden inside it.

      Your last sentence gave me something to think about too. What other parts of our lives might we miss if they suddenly disappeared? That’s such an interesting question.

      I hope Himself’s back is feeling better soon. 💕

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