Spring has sprung

Spring is here, spring has sprung,
The bird is on the wing.
Oh my, how absurd...
I thought the wing was on the bird!

(anonymous; variation by Anelda)

Despite the calendar telling me it's still February (albeit the end), the signs of spring are everywhere. Flowering cherries are in full bloom, the clematis is white with flowers, the fruit trees have buds and it looks like the blueberries are as happy as can be in their new locations. Cats are bouncing from one end of the yard to the other and - finally - prefer to spend more of their time outside.

Yesterday, a delightfully sunny Saturday, I came home from an errand-filled afternoon to find a yard full of eager gardeners, tilling and preparing their beds for the gardens to come. What a happy day! The long, painfully hard winter (even while milder than previous years), was ending and we were all coming out of hibernation. Andy and Yuko brought their new sweet girl, Amelie, just seven weeks old. How fun it will be to watch her grow as our seeds sprout and blossom this year, too.

A group barbeque will follow soon and we'll discuss plans for what we'll grow and where. More communal areas? Makes sense. It's been a great team effort so far. And we all like to cook, relish fresh vegetables, and have similar palates.

More reports as we go full swing into spring.

The winter garden

While not technically winter yet, the darker days, colder nights, and bare trees suggest it's close. It's not as grim as it sounds. There's something rather magical about a garden in the dense gray light. There's much going on that can't be seen, and there's a promise of new growth to come.

Proust quote

Let us be grateful to people who make us happy, they are the charming gardeners who make our souls blossom.

- Marcel Proust

While I'm not crazy about many of his quotes, today this resonated with me. I am so grateful to those who make me happy - dear friends who care beyond measure, who are there in hard times and good, with whom silence is as comfortable as conversation... They fill my soul with love and warmth, and their support is a valuable gift.

Fall bounty!

Andy & Yuko's pepper plant looks like a bell pepper Christmas tree! It's loaded! Tomatoes are still ripening, the Asian pears are crunchy delicious, and even the raspberries have made a second appearance. The grapes are juicy and sweet, and lettuces are taking hold.

What an amazing thing a garden is. Plant a seed, and something grows. Of course there's more to it, but in some ways, it really is that simple.

Signs of life... I feel, in some ways, like I'm finally coming back to life. I can breathe.

Tangled webs

Fall has set in and many a spider has made its way indoors, or built a web along my beaten path.

But those aren't really the webs I'm thinking about. I'm thinking about the webs we humans weave, as per Sir Walter Scott, "when first we practice to deceive."

Deceipt, omission... the untruths we tell ourselves and others when we don't want to face the truth, or want to avoid unpleasantness. The occasional "white lie" - those little things we say to avoid hurt feelings, like saying "I'm fine" when I'm not, or "You look fine," when you don't - there's a place for that.

But deceit cuts to the bone, breaks every possible avenue of trust, and seeps into the very core of the person deceived. And it's not just words uttered from someone's tongue; it's actions and words unmatched, promises unkept, or masks worn to veil what's real.

I want to know what's behind the mask.

The intricate weavings of tangled webs are much like the ripple effect, or the beating of butterfly wings... the impact is greater than the act itself, and often unseen by the cause of the effect. And unlike the beating of butterfly wings, those tangled webs are hurtful and damaging.

I trust that wounds so deep can heal, but not without desire, great effort, much time and quite likely, love, acceptance and forgiveness from something both within and greater than all of us.

A sunny September Sunday

The communal squash patch, and my neighbor, Mrs Bean, still gardening at 96.

Perspective on worms...

"We all are worms, but I do believe I am a glow worm." ~ Winston Churchill

Tilling the soil

Sometimes you just have to stir shit up.

I'm not really in the mood, but stuff got stirred, like it or not. And my only option is to dig in. I guess I could ignore it, go the "no till" route, but I suspect in this case that's not in my best interest. It's been suggested I see this as an opportunity but I'm not there yet...

It's not like I haven't done a lot of work. I'm more familiar than many with the "how to" and "fix it" type books when it comes to my inner landscape. I've been working on "my stuff" throughout my adult life, even starting pretty early. At different points along the way, I've dug deep, churned things up, let things go, had faith, trusted the universe to give me strength or show the way, listened to my inner self, practiced meditation, worked with those who know way more than me about all this stuff, visualized my dreams, shared my story, journaled, asked for help, and spoke out when I needed to.

I've been told I have a lot of emotional intelligence. I've developed a fairly strong "gut" instinct, read between lines, and hear when a voice isn't "authentic." I take responsibility for my own stuff, and I'm not afraid to do the work, especially when something reveals itself as needing the energy. Of this, I'm very capable, although sometimes that outside perspective can make a big difference. I know I'm a work-in-progress, and that my self-worth issues will be with me at some level indefinitely. Yet, sometimes, a break from doing all this is important, too.

So... why am I at this particular place again? I found it easy to defer to "never in doubt." Despite an "often wrong" clause.

Fall is settling in. The sky turns dark much earlier, the bright reds and oranges only symbolize the death that's underway. I know that spring will follow winter, but that feels like so long from now. And I am so not ready. I don't feel prepared, or that I have the energy.

My life, while not perfect, had much to like. There were dreams, ideas and even plans, but the road map and budget went askew, partly due to flawed or out-of-sync planning and partly due to the economics at hand. Or so I thought. There was still much to look forward to. I'm sure there still is but I can't get a visual.

I enter September feeling lost and adrift. Clarity comes in fragments. Tilling can support healthy growth, and I understand that it's a long-term, continual process. Perhaps this time, I can keep it going, dig deep enough so that I don't have to revisit where I am now.

Garden is as garden does

No pretense. It just is. If you care for it and give it what it needs, chances are, it'll grow and hopefully flourish. If it's neglected or misused, it won't. There's always a chance that the weather or some other such thing won't cooperate, though, and could change the outcome no matter what you do.

So many things I wish I'd known, so many things I wish I'd asked, so many things I wish I'd said; and much that I wish I'd been less afraid to explore and experiment with before it became irreconcilable. Had I only realized...

The garden is languishing right now. And I'm clear that it took us both to get here. Sometimes there were complementary skills, sometimes no skills at all... And unfortunately, there were few good examples when they were most needed. Good, honest information can help, but if it's not available, then there's even less to work with.

I have no illusions, but even with that said, I know it could be (could have been) so much more... even now, there are different possible conclusions and pieces can be salvaged, in varying degrees; but no matter how the final outcome looks, work is required to get there and work takes energy and commitment. Not sure where that stands...

Regardless, I am learning things that I believe will be essential - in the garden, in life, and in my heart. I'm recognizing places and senses long forgotten, or tucked away (some could stay away, and I wouldn't mind at all, but then I wouldn't really learn anything, would I?).

Life and landscapes change. A storm can wipe away a year of food crops in milliseconds. All sun and no rain can lead to no growth - just withering vines with no fruit. Balance is nice, but there's no guarantee, especially when there are so many unknowns, so many possibilities, and inherently, no control over any of it.

Perhaps a request for grace...

Greener grass

The neighbors always had nicer, greener grass than we did. We called them the "yard nazi's."

I guess it's all about perspective. I don't think green grass is a particularly smart way to go. It sure looks nice and it feels good between the toes. But it needs just as much care and feeding as any other kind of living thing - just different.

It's also detrimental. If you want that sweet green grass, you probably have to sabotage something else. But then of course it's justifiable, despite the damage, because it offers something else, maybe symbolizes something, and I'm sure everyone who has it has their own reason for wanting it.

Symbols are interesting. They aren't the thing itself. They only represent whatever we choose to make them mean. It can be a house, a person, green grass, a word... Despite the meaning we assign, there's quite likely another, just as valid, interpretation. Symbols can be very powerful and impact us in both positive and negative ways - but it's up to us to make the choice and how much energy to give them.

A wise friend reminded me that symbols with negative energy (and negative energy, generally) can almost always be deflected, no matter where it comes from, whether real or even just imagined. And it'll only keep us from our dreams and desires - whether it's green grass or a grass hut on a remote island - if we give it enough power.