These days the only way to get any gardening done is to go out at the crack of dawn–well, almost–and work until the heat gets unbearable, around nine.
The early morning air is cool, the plants look fresh and rejuvenated by the night, the birds are chirping, and I\’m in my pajamas.
It\’s a good thing we live where we do, at the end of a quarter-mile-long driveway and no neighbors in sight. If someone should venture up the driveway there is the driveway alarm, which I can hear from the garden, and of course the dogs, which should give me plenty of time to dive back into the house and pretend there\’s nobody home.
As I planted green beans this morning I pitied gardeners with near neighbors, or city dwellers who have turned the spaces in front of their townhouses into tiny potagers. What a waste of time and laundry to have to get fully dressed, do the garden chores, then peel off those sweaty garments, take a shower, and put on a whole new set of clothes.
Whereas I have the luxury of walking out in my pajamas, getting as dirty and sweaty as I need to, then taking a shower and getting dressed for the day.
But this is only my summer luxury. My winter luxury consists of throwing a barn coat over my pajamas and giving the hens their breakfast without having to step on mud, ice, or snow. Inspired by the clever New England concept of the attached barn, I had the builder attach the chicken shed to the garage, which is in turn attached to the house.
All this privacy is not without its dangers, however. I have been known, on occasions when I had to leave the house early but wanted to give the dogs their walk first, to take off into the woods wearing my pajamas. I can see that it is a slippery slope from there to deciding to nip into the supermarket for a can of orange juice, wearing my pajamas.
But I trust I\’ll never go that far. Meanwhile, I will continue to garden en deshabille.
What is your preferred gardening attire?