Gardens are so symbolic. Its hard to get out there ankle deep in dirt, with plants so dependent of the right conditions, to not begin making connections to life.
So, let’s DIG right in. Playfully.
Do you like or dislike gardening? Thinking about it, most people I speak to either enjoy it or don’t…I am not sure there is a ton of neutral ground here, it seems most typically, to be a polarizing subject.
I recall when I was a youth and my Dad would call us out to work in the garden. I would get out of this by busying myself with indoor housework instead. That did seem to do the trick. I was able to successfully steer away from dirt under my nails, dust in my socks, and dirt between the toes, its sort of like chalk squeaks to the board just thinking about it.
My Dad seemed to really enjoy the garden, and this was all I needed, a positive example, to one day approach the gardening prospect with curiousity. Could I get things to grow? Could I start a plant from seed and it survive? Could I tame weeds sufficiently? And when a person gets a little curiosity, suddenly growers float into their lives and questions start to tumble out.
For me, the motivation to jump in, came with a desperate situation. Emotionally, I needed some flowers, I needed to grow them and know I wouldn’t kill them. A relationship had been hurt and so I planted some zinnias.
The zinnias slowly grew over the summer. This symbolized to me a hope, that this relationship would recover and blossom again. The zinnias were like my “last leaf”, if you’ve seen this emotional dramatic little film.
My soul felt in agony, the hope of the seeds growing was helping me have patience. As I watered them, looking at their progress every time I went in the house, I knew this relationship would take special effort, with patience, too.
How funny that I said that this post would be playful. I am such a liar. So let’s back up. We moved to a place with a huge yard, it was a rental but she could care less if we gardened there. Our neighbors were quite literally, professional gardeners. This example and sharing of crops layered somthing inside of me. With a touch of ambivalence. “You don’t need to garden, you can take from this table.”
“Thank you… But I am going to give it a go! “. And off I went. Gardening! And growing vegetables! I had been suffering from insomnia for over a year, and I definitely believe this work in the bright day with plenty of fresh air us what helped ease it by degree till it healed. See ‘Light Exposure and Circadian Rhythms’ at Huberman Lab Podcast
No longer did I mind the dirt-it washes off. And infact, I felt quite grounded in it.
Then a season of great distresss fell over our family. My parents separated and divorced. Meanwhile, I had babies. In the garden, I didn’t experience my vertigo, anxiety, pain and worry lessened, my prayers over the plants redounded and meanwhile all sorts of tailored positive messages in the process of gardening whispered their sweet nothings in my ears, pertaining to life, relationships and parenting. When something very outside your control occurs, gardening, very much within your control, can be very therapeutic.
I began wiggling in to growing my own starts, learning each year better how to do it. I saw prayers redeem perhaps over dried sprouts. I noticed weeding was quit cathartic and a great release for frustration.
Here I could sing, dance or exercise while watering. And the glittering sun soaked into my skin like the recharging of batteries leaving a golder skin and a healthy glow.
When the garden sweltered in July and August, I felt present but not resistent to the heat as sweat dripped off my face, and I somehow sensed that if I could accept the challenge of tending the weeds while uncomfortable, I could be plucky and tenacious in life challenges that weren’t ideal. Much like a yogi finding comfort in their discomfort in a challenging pose, the therapy of opposition in my garden helped keep my spirit supple and willing for the throws of life.
Sometimes a gardening sun hat, apron, dress or cowboy boots also gave gardening a special feminine sweetness and novelty. Here’s a taste of what I mean. In this photo, I am having a garden tea party with my daughters. .
I’ve had friends come join me in the garden, after I had a baby, friends come to help use the bounteous harvest, to converse with me as I worked and these have been unforgettable, soul bonding experiences.
My hope for the future is to bring more hygge to my harvesting, garden tea parties with friends spot lighting the best of harvest with a crusty sour dough bread and iced lemon water or herbal tea. (“Mormons”, or members of The Church of Jesus Christ are asked to forego other teas and coffees, It helps us walk a less beaten path which tends to wend its way to God.) Truly when harvest is on, I can forget to thoroughly enjoy what all this work has culminated up to. I love this picture even though they are all a bit too perfectly cute, like Elly May Clampett on the Beverley Hillbillies. I asked chat gpt for size variation in women, and got this but it has all the charm and old fashionwd joy without being pioneers, so I stuck with it.
Now back to that question, whether you dislike or like gardening. Accepting that preference fully, is a great step. See Radical Acceptance. Then, if you want to, chat with somebody who loves gardening. Or perhaps, you’ll bump into this person. Don’t try to change your opinion, but let their love for it exist, in other words, don’t look to judge them critically for it, and let your life roll on. And that love will be contagious if this past time will bless you at some point.
If life presents something larger and more complicated than you feel you can manage, maybe the organic cycles and seasons of gardening, or the demanding distractions of it just might dust you with purpose and shower sunshine, sprinkle wind and enchant you into a flow blown commitment of an earthrial therapeutic affair where your problems can go to the back burner and gently subdue and begin to untangle.
P. S. In the next post, I will share a story about the therapeutic experience of planting pumpkins after two miscarriages helped me heal and move forward, as well as share why I love gardening with children, and how to bring them naturally into the process.