In theory, I’ve always loved gardens. I love the romance and potential of a well-groomed garden and mystery of a secret garden. In reality, my experience with gardening is more prosaic. Each year, my parents dutifully planted a garden which we dutifully, though not joyfully, weeded and tended. Our only true gardening success was a time when my father had no work. We ate from our garden for an entire summer and into the fall. I now realize that success was entirely due to the blessings of heaven rather than any expertise we showed.
In Sweden, we had a tiny patch of land which DH lovingly tended. I was busy with babies and work so I left dh to his patch of land. The scope of the area was perfect for our busy and hectic lives.
Moving to New York has brought a change of tempo to my life. Our new home has brought new interests and challenges to the forefront of my thoughts. One of the most attractive features of our new home is that we have a nice area to garden. The area is not too large, but large enough.
As we have started working on our own garden, I am amazed at the things we are learning. A few weeks ago, my most impatient son (think instant gratification) patiently sat by my side and helped me sow pea and carrot seeds. For that small moment of time, he slowed down his entire way of thinking, breathing in the deep rich smell of the soil, and participated in the timeless process of sowing seeds.
Today dh and I tackled hedges, bushes and other growth. As I pulled at vines, sawed away at dead branches, and uprooted weeds, I felt a new awakening in the process of creating. I discovered two beautiful rose bushes, nearly buried under vines. I am excited about the possibilities for the now cleared bushes.
My mind turned to thoughts of fairy tales which often deal with the forces of nature, both malignant and benign. I am reminded that there are often forces outside our control. I can plant, weed, and even water, but I can’t make the sun shine or control the weather. I just have to take what I get and make the best of it.
Perhaps, in the insulation of suburbia this is just one of the valuable lessons which we miss when we are seperated from the earth.
A Stranger Here 