Garden

Most of the time, a garden is thought of as a place where plants grow.    For me, “garden” has slowly become less of a noun and more of a verb.    It is something I do.   I garden.   It is an active verb, “to garden.”    What am I doing today?   I plan to garden.   I enjoy my garden, and I constantly invite people into my garden.    Even more so, I am thrilled to garden, and I invite people to join me in that active engagement with plants.

I prefer not to regard a garden as some kind of end product, something to make or fashion.   For sure, a garden is never something that is  done or complete or static.    Garden is something I  do when I step into the place where plants have chosen to grow in my yard.    Some of them have been invited, some have not.

As a gardener, one who gardens, my role is to establish and maintain a relationship with plants.    Neither I or they are passive partners in this relationship.   We each decide whether we are going to cooperate with the other.   I cannot make plants do anything, and they cannot effectively demand anything of me.    We can each opt out of the relationship.

I like to tell other people who garden that they have the power over life and death in their garden.   They can decide what plants to invite, which plants get to stay, which plants must be relocated or eradicated.    What I don’t tell them is that plants have the same option and power over their own destiny.

In fact, many plants have found that they don’t like the way I garden and have disappeared.   This seems to happen with some frequency.  I have a working relationship only with the survivors.   When you walk thru my garden, you only see the compatible plants with whom I have an agreement for companionship.

I suppose it is the give and take of what it means to garden.   Some plants don’t seem to believe me when I say that they can only grow in certain places.   Part of gardening is the removal of wandering plants or plants that have shown up uninvited.   Even gardening that seems random has a number of boundaries and hidden order.    Fortunately, most plants know where those limits are and how to behave.   They know very well that plants never grow in straight lines or in even numbers.

As much as control plays a part in how I garden, I also act on impulse.  In this way, gardening is erotic.   It rides and thrives on a subtle but clear wave of energy that rises deep inside me and the plants.   To garden well depends on reliance on trusting this impulsive energy.

Rational dominance when I garden makes for a weaker dynamic, and a less vibrant outcome.    I often am unaware of how things will turn out, and rely on the impulses of plants as well as my own.   I can feel a gardener’s energy when I walk into someone else’s garden.   A garden benefits from having an emotive element.    It is not a highly rational activity.

This means that when I garden, I let go.   I am thrilled to see the vibrant energy of my plants and I grieve when a plant I love has died or been ravaged.   Every day is different and full of surprises, whether I am down on my knees digging or walking among the plants feeling what they are up to today.