Return to the Garden

If you need a bit of a breather from the hustle and bustle of your day, take a virtual stroll through my friend Grace’s garden.  It will truly soothe your soul:

Lori G. (c)  2008

As I said in the previous post, my parsley bit the dust, literally. I was about to chuck the whole experiment, but then I realized that even though this situation has thrown my apartment garden experiment off track, I need to go to the garden store, get more seedlings and try it again.

It may seem very obvious where I’m going with this: you get side-tracked, you get back on track and get moving again. The last couple of weeks I’ve been pre-occupied with some personal situations that have gotten me off track in terms of some personal goals I have set for myself.

I am not going to let such annoyances disrupt my physical and emotional well-being, my creative endeavors, or my social outreaches.

How does this work out in a practical way? This morning I have already created some art, redesigned a blog, and am writing this post. Later today, I’m going to outline some writing pieces and prepare for a meeting with some friends regarding a volunteer project in which I am involved.

I’m going to get out there and get my hands dirty.

Lori G. (c) 2007

My parsley died. I sort of expected it. It was hard to get it to germinate. I tried watering, then not watering, wondering what conditions I needed to foster to get it right. While considering this situation, I realized that it might not be anything wrong that I’ve done; rather, it might be a certain level of toxicity in the soil. Nothing can survive within a toxic environment. Always looking for some lessons from my gardening experience, I spent a number of days considering how to parlay this experience into a practical application.

I began to examine the toxic elements in my life. Not surprisingly, I zeroed in on my relationships. I realized that I have allowed some of them to become toxic-perhaps it’s not the people who have become toxic, rather the toxicity is in the circumstances that I have allowed to fester around the relationships.

Now I really don’t want to end any of my relationships, so I wrote a letter, not inteded to be sent, to help me purge some of these toxic feelings. This is a classic technique for handling negative situations. Originally, I had the letter here on this post but after a few days, I decided to take it down. It has served it’s purpose and I really don’t want to risk anyone of the recipients actually reading it.

My thanks to those of you who read it and commented.

The time I dread has now come. It’s time to thin my seedlings. This is where I have usually fallen down in past attempts at growing plants. I find it very hard to take young healthy seedlings, green and seemingly innocent, and yank them up by the roots. It seems so heartless. However, not to do so would result in the whole patch of seedlings suffocating in the midst of each other. Some have to perish in order for the rest to survive.

We can draw a parallel to this in our own lives. What activities, behaviors, or attitudes are overgrowing our lives? What habits need to be plucked out so that the important things in our lives can thrive? Maybe that time in front of the television can be eliminated to make time for being with loved ones. Or the time we spend web-browsing might be better served by writing our novel, making art, or getting involved in community activities.

Now, I don’t want to stretch this parallel too far— I am not saying you quit your job or dump your significant other in order to follow your life-long passion of collecting antique widgets and ding-bats. I am merely suggesting that we learn to walk more circumspectly, keeping an eye out for time wasters and negative attitudes that keep us from living a full life. Those things crowd us and they need to be curtailed.

By the way, I did thin my herb seedlings and moved many of them to larger containers. Already the lemon balm is taking off and the parsley is in fast pursuit. I can’t wait to see them flourish!

Lori G. © 2007

Many, many years ago, more than I am willing to say, there was a weed-choked, trash-strewn plot of land on the northwest corner of my high school campus. Horticulture classes were held there and attended by the handful of students who figured studying horticulture was the easiest way to fulfill their science requirements. The word on campus was that illicit plants were being cultivated under the noses of the school’s administration. I highly doubt that was true but the garden was in such a sorry state that perhaps some thought such a story would bolster the reputation of this sad little plot of ground.

However, I am delighted to say today The Learning Garden at Venice High School in Venice, California has earned the new reputation of being one of the finest school gardens in the country.

Renovations to the garden began in 2001 when some parents and other volunteers took on the tremendous task of reclaiming the land and transforming the debris-filled area into a lush garden complete with a fountain, koi pond, organic vegetable and fruit patches and several smaller gardens of medicinal herbs and native California plant life.

Student enrollment expanded from a mere handful to about 150 youths, most of whom are grossly uninformed about the processes of nature when they start the program. For many, their science learning leaves the sterile confines of the classroom and finds fruition in the practical experience of the garden.

Not only do the students learn the discipline of taking care of the plants, soil, and equipment, but they also learn respect for the environment, respect for the animal and bird life that dwell in the garden, and, most importantly, respect for themselves.  Many of these student gardeners are learning about healthy eating for the first time. Working in the garden has transformed their attitudes towards food, and they are learning how to make healthy food choices.

In addition to organic food production, the students are also exposed to alternative forms of healing through working in the medicinal gardens. The Chinese herb garden, in particular, also provides a hands-on learning experience for the adult students of a local university of Traditional Chinese Medicine. The Learning Garden provides them with the only place in the area where they can see such herbs in their natural state. Tai Chi and Yoga classes are also offered in the garden for these college students.

Finally, the garden serves as a focal point for community-building. Volunteers from the neighborhood gather to help maintain the garden and to advocate with city planners to transform other under-utilized spaces in the city for community gardens. It is the hope of many students, teachers, and community volunteers that The Learning Garden at Venice High School will inspire other communities around the world to create their own learning gardens.

I highly recommend a visit to the Learning Garden website and taking their Virtual Garden Tour. You too will be amazed and inspired. I guarantee it!

Lori G. © 2007

An update on the apartment garden project:

As reported a few days ago, my lemon balm seeds have germinated.   Since then I’ve been wondering when the parsley would follow suit.  At first I thought I had ruined the process because I did not notice the instruction on the package that said to soak the seeds in water for 24 hours.  I googled parsley seeds and discovered that they are one of the hardest herbs to germinate.  So, for a few days I was convinced that once again I had proven to be the terror of the gardening realm.   Plants all over the world would cringe when they hear my name.  However, to my relief,  last night I found little sprouts of parsley plant, and this morning there are many more.

So, what’s the lesson here?  Simply this:  All things will emerge at the appointed time according to their nature.  I think there are things in my life that have blossomed and a great many that have yet to even germinate.  I’m inclined to fret over those that haven’t come forth yet.   There are goals in my life that are unfulfilled.  Have I worked at them?  Yes.  I’ve prepared the soil and planted the seeds.  Could I have messed things up?  Possibly, but I’m inclined to think that if I’ve done what I reasonably can do, then in their proper time, those goals will be accomplished.

The secret is learning to wait and let nature be.

Lori G. © 2007

I didn’t have a particularly good afternoon.   I will not elaborate on the details but let it suffice that most of the afternoon I felt very low.  If my mood were palpable, it would be like mud-dark, sticky and awful.

Given the theme of this blog, it shouldn’t surprise you that these days I am looking at life’s circumstances through the eyes of a gardener, and it doesn’t take a great leap of imagination to see the metaphor inherent in mud.

If mud is made of water and nutrient-laden earth, if in its darkness seeds find a home, if young life springs from it after a sufficient time of barrenness, then my mood of the afternoon should bring forth some greenness.   In the darkness of my spirit, hope germinates.   No bad time last forever-all becomes well in time.

So, after pondering this metaphor all afternoon, you can imagine my delight when I got home and found that the seeds of my tiny kitchen herb garden have germinated.

Lori G (c)  2007

I’ve been pondering gardens quite a bit during the last week. There is something deep within me that yearns to stick my hands into dark, moist earth and smell its fragrance. There is something about being around plants that energizes me. There is something hope-filled about seeing the first sprouts of germinated seeds.

I live in an apartment in a big city. I am surrounded by office buildings and all other trappings of urban life. Buses thunder by my front steps, literally fifteen feet from my front door. My windows rattle when jets take off at a nearby airport.

I do not have a yard, balcony or patio for any sort of garden. Even my window sills are too narrow for a proper planter and plants scorch in the southern exposure of these windows anyway. I tried potted ferns one time in the dark recessess of my apartment, but it’s too warm and dry when I’m not at home to keep the windows open and the air circulating. Having any sort of greenery seems hopeless where I live. (Oh, and community garden plots are not within my budget at this time).

Still I have this longing….. Up until my parents’ generation, my kin have been tilling the soil since our first barbarian ancestors crawled out of the forests of Europe to settle down on the land. This call to the earth is a part of my DNA.

So, with all the talk of gardens, wild or otherwise, I found myself drawn to a garden center this weekend. I wandered up and down the rows, lusting after the geranium plantlings and herb pots. I handled glazed pottery and imagined how they would look on my kitchen table. I even considered cacti to handle the wicked sunlight. Finally, I succumbed to temptation and bought a very small window planter, a bag of potting soil, and packages of Italian parsley and Lemon Balm seeds. (I don’t know why Lemon Balm– I just liked the soothing sound of the name). I carefully prepared the soil and sowed the seeds according to package instructions. The planter is sitting on my kitchen table with slightly tilted venetian blinds to filter the light. I have no idea if the seeds will even germinate. This may be one more foiled attempt at gardening in my apartment, but at least I had to try.

I can’t afford not to.

Lori G. (c) 2007