Read by Matilda Longbottom

“In the year 2000, do you think we’ll still be alive?”

Fourteen-year-old me was chatting with my girlfriends in 1972 about a date so far in the future it seemed incomprehensible. I’d be so old—42! Obviously, I was alive in 2000, and it wasn’t as futuristic as a young me expected.

A few weeks ago, I turned 60, which feels even more incomprehensible. I could feasibly semi-retire at 62. Yesterday, I bought potting soil to start seeds in my basement. When did a 2-cubic-foot bag of potting soil get to be so heavy?

Over the years, my garden designing has been like a squirrel in traffic—make a garden over here, oh, put one over there, hey, how about under the trees? Yes, something in the front yard, and along the foundation, don’t forget the side yard, what about along the driveway? Somehow, they’ve all come together beautifully.

But the garden I’ve been looking forward to creating is in the far back corner of our property. My “when I retire” dream has always been to get the Jack pines cut down, spruce up my garden shed, and create another garden. However, with my “squirrel” gardening, I can no longer get a garden tractor to the back corner, which means wheelbarrowing two or more yards of black dirt through what is essentially a rabbit warren of trails. If a 2-cubic-foot bag of potting soil is heavy, well, a wheelbarrow of black dirt… many, many wheelbarrows of black dirt… hmmm… Even if I fully retired at 62, it could take an entire Summer just to move the dirt; hubby is not going to put up with yards of dirt in the driveway for an entire Summer… Our oldest grandchild is only 9; he can’t do it. My son lives 90 miles away and has his own home and garden to take care of, my stepkids are non-gardening apartment dwellers. My Shih Tzu-Pekapoo dogs are happy to dig in and/or eat dirt, but useless as sled dogs to move dirt. Hubby has his own projects. Won’t hire anyone to do it. May have to rethink this.

The Jack pines are coming down regardless; they are of an age and size that just makes them hazardous to the neighbors. The squirrels use them as interconnected highways. The oak trees will stay. I have, for the most part, ignored the back corner, except for trips to the garden shed and the compost piles behind it. The view of it is blocked somewhat by a vine-covered pergola. My garden shed resembles a log cabin, with an “outhouse” where I store overflow rakes, pots, etc. Over the past few years, hyssop started growing near my compost. Oak and maple seedlings, wild geraniums bloom, Mayapples and Solomon’s seal, spikenard, cup plants, and compass plants have sprouted. I’ve been mowing around them, thinking I would eventually move them. I’ve never planted them in this area, although I planted them in other gardens throughout the property. It would seem that between my neglect, the wind, the birds, and the squirrels, a prairie/woodland garden is being created. Squirrel gardening at its best! The area is approximately 50 feet by 30 feet. If I put a log fence made from some of the Jack pine limbs around it to define its perimeters, make the shed look even more like a cabin, and let the prairie plants continue to fill in the area, I will have a “cabin in the woods” aesthetic. A few years ago, I made an “Aldo Leopold” bench. I could possibly make another or move the one I already have closer to the shed. There is already a footpath to the shed and compost bins. Mulch would make the path more defined. I can cut the grass back there as low as possible to give the seeds/seedlings more opportunity to take root, then not cut it at all until Fall. I will even make a more conscious effort to collect ripe seeds to disperse throughout the area. No wheelbarrowing heavy black dirt. No waiting until I retire to create another beautiful garden.

Just as well: this retirement thing is tricky. I know that God numbered my days before I was born. I don’t know if He will give me another 20 years or 20 minutes. But if I can make one request of Him, it would be that when my time here is done, I will leave this earth the way my 87-year-old uncle did.

He was working in his garden when his heart simply stopped—and he retired for good! ❖

About the Author: Laurel Radomski is a passionate gardener and writer who delights in the unexpected beauty that arises from her eclectic gardening style. With a lifetime of creating whimsical garden spaces and a love for nature’s surprises, she shares her adventures and mishaps with humor and warmth. When she’s not tending to her myriad gardens, Laurel enjoys spending time with her family, including her adorable Shih Tzu-Pekapoo dogs, and dreaming up her next garden project.