After about 16 months in bed, I’d simply watched all the TV there was to watch. Everything I was interested in, anyway. And so I went in search of something. Something soothing. Something hopeful. Something that would help me forget the pain, fatigue, and isolation of chronic illness. Something that would give me hope.

I “met” Monty Don when I found a series called Big Dreams, Small Spaces which follows people across the UK as they overhaul their small gardens and turn them into dream spaces. He seemed genuinely kind and watching the transformations was addicting. I wanted to transform like that. I wanted to dig past rubble and dirt and sprout into glorious color.

The Brits are, well, British. So of course there were only 5 or 6 episodes a season. I was still sick, still stuck in bed, and there was no transformation on the horizon. This Monty guy seemed like he knew a lot about gardening so I did a search for his name, thinking maybe he’d done another show. Come to find out he is seriously famous in the gardening world. #Oops He hosts a weekly show on BBC called Gardener’s World. I started watching in the hopes that it would fill in the hole Big Dreams, Small Spaces had left.

I had no idea it would change my life.

Sir Nigel of Longmeadow

It started with Nigel. Even typing his name makes me smile. Nigel accompanied Monty all around the garden each week. He flopped in exactly the spot Monty was going to plant crocus and tulips. He dropped his tennis balls into freshly dug planting holes. He chased apples that fell from trees. He was a golden retriever with the most expressive face and charming demeanor. I accidentally learned about gardening while following the weekly exploits of Nigel The Very Best Boy.

My husband heard all about Nigel the same way he heard about what my friends’ kids were up to or what the latest drama on Twitter was. I took videos of the show on my phone and sent it to him via text while he was working. We agreed that tennis balls should absolutely grow tennis ball trees and Nigel should get everything he wanted, always.

At some point, I realized that there were more seasons of the show than there are years in a dog’s life. I did a Google search and learned that Nigel had died in 2020. I sobbed. Then I started watching more closely, more slowly.

And I ordered a few packets of seeds.

Something about knowing Nigel was gone made me want to see something grow.

Into The Cave

The only reason we could afford to buy this house is because it’s falling apart. Not unsafe levels of falling apart, but definitely unattractive levels. The moment I stepped into the house I thought two things: 1) I WANT IT and 2) Adam is never going to go for this. By some miracle, he did go for it and I got my house. And the yard. We’re on a corner lot, we’ve got a steep slope, and the backyard is massive. I had dreams of terracing it and adding a swing set and play area for the kids and a fire pit for entertaining. Those plans were put on hold first because we couldn’t afford them, then we had health scares with our daughter, then our son was diagnosed with ADHD and anxiety, then there was this small global pandemic that you may have heard of…and then me. I happened.

Pain. Fatigue. Swelling. Fatigue. Dizziness. Fatigue. Migraine. Fatigue.

Brain damage.

My bedroom is in the basement. It’s my cave. There are sliding glass doors leading to the backyard and two big windows to let in light, but I keep them covered with blackout curtains. It’s cool and dark and quiet. The bed is piled high with pillows - some for sleeping, some for sitting up, some for propping up whatever is swollen or most painful. The bedside table is full of prescription bottles, otc pain meds, stomach meds, supplements, and vitamins. A sick person lives here.

And at first, being a sick person was terrifying. But terror takes energy and I simply didn’t have any. There was doctor after doctor and test after test all while the seasons changed and the kids grew and life moved on. Eventually, I got some answers. Severely weakened immune system. Chronic migraine with full body involvement. Chronic inflammation. Chronic fatigue. (you’re seeing the pattern, right?)

Some things are still a mystery. Two years in I’m still going to different specialists and tweaking medications and dosages and exercises.

Sometimes the terror spikes. When I think about what would happen to me and the kids if we lost Adam. Or when I think about how short my life expectancy is, now. Thankfully my anxiety brings those thoughts to me regularly and if I’m really lucky I get to live them out in technicolor dreams at night.

I’ve been grinding my teeth so hard that I cracked one, it got infected, and I got a root canal for Christmas this past year.

In the cave, I don’t have to put on a brave face. I can scream and sob into my pillows. I can hide in the cool dark. I can heal.

Slowly. So slowly. So very slowly that even terror has become boring. I didn’t think that was possible. Gut-clenching fear is just Monday. Nausea-inducing pain is simply Tuesday. Oh, I can’t think today? It must be Thursday. Three days of migraines followed by vertigo, followed by fatigue so total that I can barely make it from the bed to the bathroom… Eh.

I didn’t give up. I’m still here. But I did stop fighting for a while. I sank deeper into this cave, into this bed, into the dark. And then Nigel planted his tennis ball and I planted some seeds.

The BEAST

The vastness of my backyard is overwhelming. So, I decided to focus on the front yard which meant I had to finally tackle my nemesis, THE BEAST. I’ve hated him from the moment I first saw the house and for the last six years I’ve fumed, pouted, cursed at, and fought with him. But this year, I finally took action. 2023 is the year I battle The Beast and win.

The Beast is a gargantuan juniper bush that took up nearly HALF of our front yard. About twelve feet from front to back and nearly 17 feet wide, he’s definitely earned his name.

But how was I going to take him down? Ideally, with a credit card. We got a few estimates and it quickly became clear that was NOT an option. I bought a few lottery tickets. And then I bought a mini chainsaw.

Yes, you read that right. A chainsaw. A six-inch, battery-operated chainsaw. It’s small enough for me to use safely and the battery is also small enough that I can’t use it too long. I made a plan - every day in April that it wasn’t raining I would battle The Beast for no more than 20 minutes. Some days I could only manage ten. For a couple of days, I could only manage a withering stare. For a couple of days, I couldn’t get out of bed.

But I hacked away, little by little, tearing him down. That was outside. Inside was a whole other story.

While I followed the exploits of Nigel and eventually of Nell, Ned, and Patti, I was also soaking in a lot of information about gardening and inspiration for my own garden. While I wielded a mini chainsaw outside, inside I started a mini nursery. Perennials in seed trays and pots are sprouting under grow lights on the counter. Strawberries are in grow bags on the floor. Dahlias are potted up and placed on every windowsill. My tools, soil, liquid feed, and garden notebook are stashed in the corner. Life is inside. Life is growing.

Tomorrow Adam will slay The Beast. I’ve wounded him as much as I can. We’re renting a much larger chainsaw and Adam will slice the final bits down, dig it out a bit, and slice some more. Then we’ll clear out his carcass and I’ll probably do a little dance. The kids will laugh at me and I WILL NOT CARE.

We’ve got plans. We’re turning The Beast’s grave into a no-dig garden; laying cardboard and then layering soil on top, planting my lovely seedlings, sowing some seed direct, and mulching.

This summer I’ll be able to sit on my front porch and soak in the color, the light, the scent, the life. And when I have to be in the cave, I’ll still know it’s all up there, living.

There’s a small dogwood tree growing in the back corner and I’ve got a tennis ball that I’ll ‘plant’ under it for Nigel, who was such a very good boy that he helped me climb up out of a cave and battle a beast and plant a garden.