I’ve spent the last few days thinking back on the year that was, which is, I think, a normal thing to do – but the more I think about what was, the more I remember what wasn’t. Just look at the date of the previous post – April 28, 2023!

A lot got in the way of everything during 2023. Although I did do gardening tasks over the course of the year, it was the bare minimum… mowing, weeding, pruning. Generally speaking, these were the things that had to get done – and none of it was blog worthy.

Looking back on the year, I think I was caught in a perfect storm of lack of time, lack of interest, and lack of ideas.

COVID

In February 2023, Joe’s 88-year-old mom tested positive for COVID. Within a few days, Joe also tested positive – and then it was a waiting game for my turn. In the days that I remained negative, I stocked up on supplies and homemade chicken soup for us and for my mother-in-law.

Then, I tested positive. While Joe was treated with over-the-counter meds, my doctor prescribed Paxlovid for me, due to my underlying heart condition. While this powerful med initially knocked out the virus – I felt well enough to mow the lawn within a day or two – side effects included a horrible metallic taste in my mouth and COVID rebound, a milder version of the virus.

We all recovered, but Joe’s mom’s COVID experience was quickly followed up with pneumonia, which was then followed by a UTI (which, we learned mimics dementia in the elderly), which was followed by a fall, which was followed by a merry-go-round stay in the hospital, rehab, hospital, and rehab – and our having to cancel for the fourth time our trip to Seattle and Portland, which was originally supposed to have happened in May 2020.

While Joe was involved with his mother’s care, I fell into the rabbit hole of searching for a suitable assisted living facility, reminiscent of what I had done in 2020, when Joe’s father had been diagnosed with melanoma and dementia. All of this, including the sale of his mom’s car and house, ate up a good chunk of 2023.

Ultimately, we found a facility close to our house and it took months for his mom – and us — to settle into this new life. Managing her care sometimes felt like a full-time job. When Joe and I had downtime, the last things I wanted to do were to garden and write.

Weather

Like many places around the world, 2023 seemed to be the year weather earned the title of The New Abnormal Normal. In South Florida, the weather story was rain and heat.

By year’s end, Fort Lauderdale had received 114” of rain, making it the wettest city in America. Two major rain events were in that 9.5’ of rain.

April is part of our dry season, but we were forecast to have a rainy day. What forecasters didn’t predict is that a single storm cell would remain stationary over Fort Lauderdale for the entire day, pumping in tropical downpours. While Miami had maybe 3” of rain, the Fort Lauderdale area received 26” in a matter of hours.

By the time municipalities realized the gravity of the situation, it was too late to have emergency preparations in place. As Joe and I watched the water level rise in both the front and back yards, we scrambled to lift things off of the floor and to sop up two areas where water was leaking in from under the baseboard.

At the same time, we said to ourselves and to one another the same things we’ve said when we’ve prepped for a hurricane: Why do we live here? Should we move to a building? We really can’t take this anymore.

When the rain ended later that night, floodwaters had reached two thirds of the way up the front lawn and each house was an island. In the backyard, the canal water was over the seawall by about a foot. Fortunately, the water never reached the patio, the pool, or the house – but locals born and raised in Florida all agreed they had never seen this kind of weather here.

Then, November happened. Again, forecasters called for a rainy and windy day, but this turned into a no-name tropical storm. Strong winds snapped palm fronds and once again, canal water crested the seawall and rose into the backyard. As in April, Joe and I asked one another the same questions – and the locals born and raised in Florida said they had never seen this kind of weather here.

It wouldn’t be a talk about South Florida weather if there weren’t mention of heat and humidity – and Summer 2023 was blistering. One day, the heat and humidity combined to feel like 118 degrees. Joe and I hid inside, shades pulled down, for much of the summer, venturing out to only do what was necessary. I even moved my lawn mowing routine to early evening, rewarding myself with a dip in the pool, which was a refreshing 94 degrees.

About the only South Florida creatures that enjoyed the weather were mosquitoes and iguanas, both of which were brazen and relentless — and the locals born and raised in Florida all agreed they had never seen this kind of weather here.

Sixty

I turned the big Six-Oh in April 2023. Our planned trip to Weeki Wachee to hang out with mermaids was canceled due to the April flooding.

I’ve never had an issue with my age or achieving a numerical milestone. I’ve often felt young and thought young, so my numerical age never mattered to me. Sixty, though, felt different. It was like something snapped, and the number and the feelings synced with one another. I felt – I feel – old and tired.

I’ve managed three major health issues in my life: a car accident in my thirties, coronary artery disease since my forties, and as of March 2020, early-onset macular degeneration.

I’ve also had aches and pains that would fade away in a day. Now, it feels as if the aches and pains and creaking noises are constant. One day of yard work can mean days of recuperating. Heck, just waking up in the morning can mean a day or two of recuperating.

I also find myself doing a lot more worrying than I’ve ever done, usually just as my head lands on my pillow at night. I wonder if this is because of a growing awareness of the speed of time. I’m 60. Joe is 66. How much time do we have to do the things we still want to do? What do I want to do? What do I still want to learn? What do I want to become? What will heart disease and macular degeneration mean for my future? All of the men in Joe’s family have had dementia; what will happen to him?

These questions then roll into more questions: Will we be able to continue living in Florida or will we be forced to leave if the governor and legislature continues on a path of legislated intolerance? Will we still have a place at the table in our country or will we have to leave? How do we become ex-pats?

I know a lot of these questions are far, far out of my control – but that’s the equivalent of my ophthalmologist telling me not to worry. Has he even met me? It’s a good thing manatees show up every now and then. They give me a reason to pause and breathe.

The Takeaway

I understand we’re all facing worries and uncertainties, and many are far more burdensome than mine. These are merely the reflections of one gardener looking back at a chaotic year, the latest in what can only be described as the most recent of chaotic years.

Writing all this, though, has in its own way been somewhat helpful. I’ve rewritten this post several times because after re-reading it, I sounded so… so negative and whiny – and that is definitely not how I want to be at 60 or at any age. Also, pulling out videos and photos from 2023 helped me to remember those magical moments for which to be thankful.

In terms of the garden, I’m tired of it constantly needing my attention. Yes, I know that’s part of the joy of gardening – but the exhaustion comes from living in a place with a 12-month growing cycle. There’s never any down time. The frustration comes from doing the work, only to have it be undone by weather anomalies, pests, and, of course, iguanas.

Yet, I know the garden is where I have to be, even on days when I think there’s too much garden to manage or days when there’s not enough garden to ease my worrying mind. I have to get my hand dirty, despite the aches and exhaustion, and the cooler weather makes that easier.

Here’s a list of things I have to tackle:

• Several clumps of ginger have to be divided and replanted.
• I keep toying with the idea of removing heliconia plants. They really take a beating in the wind, but… their lobster claw flowers are truly tropical and exotic. I’m still on the fence.
• I think I’d like to remove a lot of the bromeliads. I love them, but their razor-toothed edges hurt and the water held in the pitcher of the plant is a breeding ground for mosquitoes.
• I’ve also been nursing some cuttings that have to get in the ground. Among these is giant purple iris, a new garden favorite that I think I’m going to plant where the dune sunflowers once were.
• I also have to be remember to garden with age and maintenance in mind.
• Now that the holidays are over, nurseries here are moving away from mums and poinsettias and are stocking up with more typical garden fare. I’ll definitely make the rounds, knowing full well that the iguanas will most likely undo my efforts. Such is life in Florida.

I’ve decided to not call any of these tasks resolutions, because I find that resolutions do nothing but set one up for failure. This is merely a to-do list… and there’s one other item I must add…

And that is to thank all of you for making it to the end of an exceptionally long post and for sticking by this Nitty Gritty Dirt Man. May you all have a 2024 that’s overflowing with happiness, peace, and good health. Cheers.