There’s nothing better than a long weekend and a new pair of gloves—except sunshine to go with them. The forecast is fabulous for the next few days—not even rain on Memorial Day (and it always rains on Memorial Day). So I’m breaking out my new gloves and heading into the garden.
I’ve had the new gloves tucked away since Christmas so I could look forward to them, much like this long weekend. They’re purple, of course, because I always wear purple gloves. I tried yellow once, but those seemed like someone else’s hands. I’ve kept the new gloves in reserve because I know the anticipation will be sweeter than the reality. The new gloves will just get dirty, and the weekend will pass too quickly, and I’ll still be a sorry gardener with much more to do than I got done.
It’s hard to put my old gloves to rest. They’ve served me well. They’ve been filthy with dirt and mulch and left out in the rain. They’ve plucked away dead leaves, held stems to be pruned, and pulled many a weed. They’ve been gleefully shaken and tossed into the air by dogs. There’s grit in the fingertips, the palms are so hard and slick that tools slip from my grasp, and there’s a hole that exposes the tender flesh at the base of the thumb, where I get a blister from digging.
But my old gloves are always on the back porch, waiting for me. And they’ve become exactly the size and shape of my hands. The neoprene palms are creased exactly like my own, and the fingers of my gloves are bent exactly where my own fingers bend. The middle finger of my gloves has even become crooked, a hereditary Marvin finger, like mine, Mom’s and Grandpa’s.
The new gloves have promise, but no clout. I’m not certain I trust them yet to wrap a clematis tendril without bruising it. And the new gloves are so self-consciously clean and garish that I feel like a superhero who’s come to save the gardening day. The new gloves are also very hot because they haven’t acquired any air holes yet. And the palms are all grippy, like I forgot they were supposed to be. But after a long weekend in the garden, they’ll become my gloves again.
I love those new gloves – I have some just like them in pink and blue. I probably have 12 pairs of gloves, maybe more. I wrote a post about them once. I also love my Ethel gloves – they are my workhorses.
I like that you wrote a post about your new and old gloves – I consider my gloves my most important “tool” so a post about them from someone else makes me smile.
Glad you enjoyed that post. I thought you might. I read your blotanical profile right after I published that.
I love the feeling of putting on a new pair of gloves but whatever old or new glove comes on, they are usually tossed half way through my chores as I find it difficult to pinch or deadhead flowers with them. My favorite are the Mudd gloves
Hope you’re having a grand time out there this weekend!
Ha! Lovin’ the superhero analogy. A classic! I bought FOUR new pairs of gloves this year and my plan is to rotate them through the wash machine (which has been working pretty well so far). I just detest putting my hands in gloves and having them come out dirtier than they went in!
Yes, despite my reluctance to give up the old gloves, it sure was sweet to put my hands in clean ones.