As I began my seasonal gardening two days ago, I became aware how the experience of being in my garden lingers. I just began to really notice and experience it.
There is snow a foot deep in much of my yard. I struggled to plod to my destination plants. It was hard to keep my balance in the piled up snow as I reached to trim bushes. All the while, my lingering awareness of the plants around was being stirred and refreshed.
I began my seasonal gardening two days ago by trimming Hydrangea bushes back to my preferred height. I shaped them to a size from which they can now bud and grow very soon. They yielded to the hands of the gardener. I think they got the message as firmly as I felt it: this is how you will unfold and manifest your wonder. With that small trimming gesture my lingering role as gardener has been awakened.
Their urges to grow and mine to garden have been dormant for months. We have been alive, but not so vibrant as we are about to become. The remnants of growing and gardening have lingered, and the shared experience of being in this garden will soon be shared more actively by my plants and me.
Right now there is some stubble sticking out of the snow, still clinging to the experience of last year’s growth and aliveness. The dried stalks and wooden stems are solid and unmistakable signs of the lingering presence of plants all around me. Now there are boot tracks in the snow, indicating the lingering presence of a gardener.
I took a deep breath this morning and remembered that in every breath I take, there a lingering remainder of plants that grew and thrived in my garden last season. The oxygen and other substances from plants that filled my garden last year still linger. Some of those plant substances still linger and contribute to the air I take in with every breath.
It has been a time of dormancy for my plants and for me. It will soon be time for them to wake and arouse from their time of lingering. My time of awakening already began two days ago.