Distractions flourish in gardens always in need of attention

I spent some time over the weekend making a detailed list of everything that needs to be done in the garden in advance of an event in a week or so. I was trying to avoid making such a list, as I find it a good way of making a task seem completely overwhelming, but after a day of pulling weeds from a now mostly dry creek bed and making precious little progress, I realized I better put the jobs down on paper if only to help prioritize things.

The list is divided by different areas of the garden, and my intention is to tackle each area fully before moving on. But every gardener knows just how difficult that is. Even for the most focused gardener, sticking to one area of the garden can be a nearly impossible task when surrounded by the distractions of everything that needs attention.

Distracted gardener syndrome is a well-known malady. It’s why we find the coffee mug missing since last week on the edge of a raised bed, or find a hand pruner laying at the base of a plant with a fresh layer of rust. It strikes quickly, when walking to dump the wheelbarrow and noticing plants that need staking, or when the bright color of a freshly blooming flower calls you to it, just for a second, just to check it out. But it never is just a second.

It’s why I’ve walked to the northwest corner of the house at least a dozen times with the intention of pulling out a patch of jewelweed and yet that jewelweed, which is now flowering, is still there.

But this time I have a plan to counteract the siren song of everything else in the garden. I’m going to fill a cart with everything I may possibly need — tools, stakes and twine for emergency staking, seaweed fertilizer concentrate and a watering can to take care of any fertilizing, spare gloves and even a bottle of water so there’s no excuse to just pop inside for a drink. By bringing everything with me, my hope is that I will actually stay in one area of the garden until all items are checked off the list. Heck, I may even throw in a rain jacket so that I’m not tempted to leave if the skies open.

Will this metaphorical chaining of myself to the garden work? I have my doubts. Because there’s sure to be a nearby plant with a butterfly hovering that demands attention (and probably a photograph). And if I come across a plant I’ve been meaning to move, I’ll have to take it to its new home and suddenly I’ll be far away from my cart and my purpose.

So if you happen to see me in my garden wandering aimlessly, remind me of that list and point me in the direction of my cart. Because sometimes we all need a little help fighting off a bad case of distracted gardener syndrome.