On being mistaken for the gardener

I’ve written before about ‘just gardening’ – and I have been at it again, this time clearing a much neglected patch beside the church ready for the children to come and plant an edible hedge and wheat.  Many of the conversations had over the phone, at the church door or whilst wearing ‘clericals’ seem to begin with, ‘now I know you’re busy, but’.  Does that phrase imply feelings of un-importance perhaps?  Or is it just a sweetener when asking for something?  However, conversations whilst gardening (generally in scruffy attire) never begin with such a phrase.  Are gardeners expected to have a lot of time on their hands? Or is gardening seen to be a superfluous activity therefore easily disturbed?  I suspect neither of these is true.  Gardening, in its pure form, if there is such a thing, is a caring profession and those engaged in it are seen as approachable.  I wonder if those who stop to chat would secretly like to have a bit of an occasional garden themselves and stopping to chat connects them partly to the activity.  I wonder if there is a yearning for the earth, to be in touch with it far closer than at present.  Like I said before, I think I’ll carry on gardening.