Gardens

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The garden got weeded this morning. It is not much of a garden this year, lettuce and herbs and eight various tomato plants; not much a of harvest but what wasn't planted has made way for happy perennials which never mind showing off their colors.

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Gardens carry memories for me. And lessons. When I was newly married, my husband and I incredulously at 25 years old bought the first house I would own, a modest ranch on a half acre, not a mile from one of the most beautiful harbors and coastlines I will ever see.
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I planted my first garden in the side yard of that house and couldn't believe how within days patience delivered cracks in the ground, then the breakthrough of small buds, and then, inch by inch, plants!--tomatoes and green beans and eggplant and broccoli. There have been seasons I've had gardens and seasons I haven't. I like having them better than not having them.
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JB and I have lived in this house now for five years. It is a wonderful space and place. But something happened early on that was for some time lovely and at end horrible and I carry that sadness in the yard. Now, sometimes when I'm in my yard, I am reminded that love sometimes is not enough. And sometimes--I'm not sure--I wonder if love sometimes is not love.
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I thought of my garden today along side a post that Marion wrote yesterday on meadows and mountains. You should read it. Marion is very observant and very wise. She is also my Sister. There are so many many things I cannot tell you about Marion because I do not know them, but she and I are side by side in the Sisterhood. Go here if you don't know her already. And if you don't mind, tell her that kj loves her.
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The garden was overrun with weeds this morning. JB and I worked the better part of the day pulling some easy and some tenacious roots up and out. Now the garden looks like it just had the best haircut, and it looks happy about it.
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The weeds get piled into a wheelbarrel and tossed over the fence of our neighbor's backyard. She wants the deep slope to fill in so we can always dump our cuttings and clean ups there. That is a huge convenience and a small blessing.
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When weeds are pulled, they are left for dead and they die quickly. Same with flowers pulled from the ground because they've outlasted their appearance. It's no longer time for pansies in New England. They are first up in spring, but now they are leggy and tired. JB pulled them up but she did not put them in the wheelbarrel.
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Here they are, out of the ground, ready for their new gig in the house. What could be prettier?
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It's not always obvious which are weeds and which are flowers, what lives and what dies, and why.

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The Summer Day
Mary Oliver
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Who made the world?
Who made the swan, and the black bear?
Who made the grasshopper?
This grasshopper, I mean-
the one who has flung herself out of the grass,
the one who is eating sugar out of my hand,
who is moving her jaws back and forth instead of up and down-
who is gazing around with her enormous and complicated eyes.
Now she lifts her pale forearms and thoroughly washes her face.
Now she snaps her wings open, and floats away.
I don't know exactly what a prayer is.
I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down
into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass,
how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,
which is what I have been doing all day.
Tell me, what else should I have done?
Doesn't everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do
With your one wild and precious life?
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Why do I assume I know anything? How do I know when I should be in the meadow and when it's time to head for the mountain and...when it's time that something may happen for reasons that I did not except and may not agree with? Of course I have hopes and goals and I follow them to various degrees. But beyond that what happens is not my call. When did I start believing, start knowing this? It lightens things up.
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What happens next is up to some power greater than me. My personal opinion is it's a benevolent universe. Why bad sad things happen in a benevolent universe is not something I can answer. But I think there's way far more good than bad in the world, and in myself.
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All I can do is show up, which I do. And Tend. Nourish. Weed. Wait. Care. Harvest.
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That's all I can do. Please God, let me look forward now. There are too many beautiful and purposeful plants and weeds, too beautiful and purposeful to miss another second.
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Happy Weekend All,

love kj