Doing what I can

God, give me grace to accept with serenity

the things that cannot be changed,

Courage to change the things

which should be changed,

and the Wisdom to distinguish

the one from the other.

Living one day at a time,

Enjoying one moment at a time,

Accepting hardship as a pathway to peace,

Taking, as Jesus did,

This sinful world as it is,

Not as I would have it,

Trusting that You will make all things right,

If I surrender to Your will,

So that I may be reasonably happy in this life,

And supremely happy with You forever in the next.

-Reinhold Niebuhr

I was too obsessed yesterday with trying to figure out what might be wrong with the apple tree to either enjoy or do anything constructive in the garden. Today I think I will make better use of my time by digging out the Bermuda grass that is threatening to infest this raised bed and choke out these snapbeans.

I've done what I can about the apple tree. I've gone through three separate disease keys from the Cooperative Extension services in several Western states, and although I'm not 100% certain, I think it is likely some kind of crown or root rot brought on by our archenemy of poorly draining clay soil, and there's not much I can do about that. Mike reminded me that before we planted the apple tree, we dug down about three feet in an attempt to improve the drainage, and amended the native soil with compost. That was the general wisdom ten years ago, but since then recommendations have changed. One of the results of backfilling with heavily amended soil is that the area will sink over time as the compost decays, resulting in a sunken area. The sunken area is really obvious now that the grass is gone, meaning that when we water, it pools right next to the trunk and stays there, opening the roots up to various infections.

The first lines of the "Serenity Prayer" above are well known, probably because of their adaptation by Alcoholics Anonymous and other 12-step programs, but the last part isn't as familiar to most people. For some reason, I was reminded of the thoughts behind this prayer today. If I'm going to be a successful gardener, I have to work with my backyard as it is, heavy clay soil, extreme heat and all. I'd rather have better soil and more moderate temperatures, but this is what I have to work with. Trees may die, but there are other things in our garden to enjoy, and perhaps the difficulty of coaxing beauty from a less-than-ideal situation adds to its appreciation.