I had some errands to run in Toronto last friday, and while I was in the city I went by our old garden plot at the community centre to put it to bed for the winter and to say goodbye, since we won’t be gardening there again in the spring. It looked like this when I arrived:
But what I saw was this!
Holy growth, batman! It’s such a funny story we tell ourselves about gardens, that they need us. I mean, look at that glorious abundance of green! Yes, it isn’t tidy. Yes, it’s a tangle of “weeds” and things gone to seed. Isn’t it fabulous?
There was so much to harvest. I walked away from this bit of dirt over two months ago and it has had not a whit of attention since then. Except for the sun, rain, wind, birds, bugs, and micro fauna… which is rather a lot of attention, actually, isn’t it.
The truth is, the garden tends me. How patient and benevolent the garden is, to wait out my pride and ego as I root and snort about. When finally the stillness of the garden trickles through my consciousness, and I slow down for a second, the beauty overcomes me… becomes me. For a few minutes… I just… Am.
The earth holds nothing back. Why do we?
hope you’re having a peaceful, bright day.