It has taken me many years to realize that gardening is more than digging earth and planting seeds.
Gardening is not about showing off, or being the best.
Gardening is not about perfection, or conformity.
For me gardening is an expression of love. It is how I nurture and tend to the life that either found its way naturally, or was lovingly introduced into the environment that I call my home.
The biggest step is always in creating a space where life can spring forward and reveal itself in all of its glorious diversity. Striping back the layers of tar and concrete that we have placed seemingly everywhere around us to make life convenient. Incapable of supporting life, this black void, hot tar, molten lava we are so willing to allow to smother the life energy of our earth. Mother. I could cry, I have cried. But the earth pushes through in time, and with our help sooner.
Gardening is my therapy. It connects me to a deeper part of myself. The timeless, fragile, ever changing, finite, earth dependent, humble parts of myself. Relentlessly reminding me of how time marches on. As I witness the rise and fall of each season flow naturally, one into the other, expanding my awareness of the delicate preciousness of life, in all of its forms. I am blessed.
My garden teaches me patience and how to be gentle and compassionate. Sometimes I am tested physically, even exhausted from the work that is my calling. At all times I am rewarded, in more ways that I know. This silent, stoic, truthful awareness is revealed; slowly, patiently, unfolding like the petals of a glorious rose blossoming into the fullness of all that it is with the loving support of its mother. A mother I call my garden, my teacher, my companion and my love. Yes, my garden grows with love.
Laura – May 6, 2020