Thirty years ago an ashen burn pit mirrored my own feelings of sadness and confusion. As I dug into the charred clay, unearthing shards of glass and metal fragments, Mother Earth began to heal and so did I. Each year brought challenges and rewards in gardening and in my own life.
That first outdoor flower garden gradually turned unruly with unidentified plants from well-meaning family and friends. Now envisioning a cottage-style allergy-free garden that would bloom throughout the seasons, I invited others to freely dig and take what they wanted. Planning was intricate and slow. Most plants flourished. Some died. Some had much different characteristics than the catalogue description. Most returned. Some didn’t. Some weren’t at all as expected — in pleasing and not so pleasing ways. Some needed more nurturing, some were showy.
Until this time, writing was my outlet to process a myriad of emotions and life events. But, gardening deepened the transformation. Opening my eyes and ears to nature, I understand so much more now and see the answers are all here. Hence, it’s helped me to right my life.
The garden and I transform together as it teaches me about living life. I have come to see Winter’s beauty in its starkness. It’s as necessary and cyclical as the hours of a day. I’ve shed fixed beliefs of completeness and forever, like a sweater on a September afternoon.
My intent of this weekly blog is to share musings, insights, inspirations and photos that have stirred my soul so deep within, the contemplation has shifted my world. Rumi, Ralph Waldo Emerson, Lao Tse Tung and nature’s splendor color my gardening path of life. Feel free to come along. You may start seeing things a bit differently.