Health & Gardening

We hear it all the time how good gardening is for folks . Fresh air and exercise and all. But what if health issues interfere with gardening? What if that very fresh air is the bane of one’s existence?

There have been wonderful garden adaptations for folks who have problems with mobility – raised beds, container gardens, adaptive tools, etc. But what of us who are plagued by the weather? What adaptations can we adopt?

I have eczema. Have had it since I was 12 or 13. Heat & humidity make it flare*. So, what am I and folks with eczema, psoriasis and other similar illnesses to do? I’m beginning to think that the answer is to garden in the fall, winter and spring. I’ve come to the conclusion that living in Missouri is the reverse of living in New York. Instead of huddling inside during the deep mid-winter watching the snow fall and reveling out-of-doors the rest of the year, I now know that I have to plan on huddling around the AC vent during the deep mid-summer and revel outdoors when the temperatures & humidity drops. (It’s either that or move to the high dessert; and, my beloved said he just doesn’t want to go there.)

I realized, belatedly, that there’s no reason I can’t put in that stone patio in November or December rather than June. Same with landscaping. There really isn’t that much snow here in Missouri. I have access to the ground for much of the fall, winter & spring. I just have to plan on getting out early in the day to take advantage of the shorter amounts of daylight. Funny to think that we get caught in our traditions of what can and can’t be done at certain times of year.

So, cold weather, bring it on!



*Please don’t send me ideas of remedies. Trust me, as a medical librarian, I’ve scoured the literature and have met with dermatologists.

The difference rain makes

I'd forgotten what rain does for a garden. After 4 years of drought, I'd begun to accept the 'concrete' soil and wilted Echinacea as normal. I hadn't put it together that the reason the Liquid Fence wasn't working on my hostas - the dear still ate them up - was because those hostas with their bitter dressing were some of the few green leaves that the deer came across. It's been a relaxing change to not have to water. It's also been nostalgic, a reminder of growing up in New York State, a much wetter place than Missouri. Now, if only the farmers could get their seeds in and the rivers would stay within their banks.