As I have mentioned before, I have a wonderful younger sister (along with her great husband) living in Florida. My sister Nancy has a marvellous blog called The Garden's Gift (see links at right) that I read on a regular basis. I was especially intrigued by the one titled "The Zen of Gardening". Although I've spent many an hour in gardens, I haven't managed to find the kind of Nirvana she has, so this past weekend I gave it the old college try again. My husband and I started Saturday morning, went well into the afternoon, and picked up again on Sunday, just to get our gardens to where we could actually see the plants. I went at this task with zeal, waiting for the calm, insightful pleasure it gives my sister. By the end of the Saturday gardening event, all I had manged to do was become sore, tired and extremely sweaty ( forget glow, women actually sweat). As Sunday dawned I thought that maybe I wasn't approaching the task with the right attitude or possibly I just hadn't inherited the "zen" gene. Now, I love a beautiful garden as much as anyone, but it's the getting there I have trouble enjoying. I tried letting my husband be the gardener in the family, but after several years of pansies and geraniums, I felt compelled to add a little more life to our gardens. I love pampas grass and tall, unusual plants that flower and have spent much time at our favorite nursery perusing the latest selections. I enjoy planting the flowers and watching them grow. It's the first weeding of Spring that truly makes me wonder if maybe rocks and concrete would be easier. It seems that no matter how bad the winter is in Maryland, the weeds are the first thing to pop up and they grow as if someone actually encouraged them. Despite weed-whackers and weed killers, we have this "thing" that reappears every year in our waterfall garden and it multiplies over and over again. We've cut it, pulled it, sprayed it and done everything short of dynamiting it and it continues to reappear every spring, getting larger and larger each year. So today was spent again pulling dozens of offshoots of this weed or plant or whatever the heck it is, wishing the Zen would kick in. I tried meditating and cursing but the only thing that worked was sheer brute force. At the end of the day, there were still several shoots that resisted all efforts to dislodge them so being rather practical I finally decided that a cool drink and a hasty retreat from the area was probably my best option. I'm still looking for the "zen" gene my sister inherited but I'm beginning to think it was a one time shot destined to become part of the youngest child. So, as my sister communes with her gardens, you'll find me on the pool deck with my feet up...by the way, could I have some more ice please? Cheers!