Sunday, November 15, 2015

Beginning Again

It's been over a year since I last wrote on here. Blogism (that terrible affliction that affects all half-arses who write blogs) befell me. I got lazy and stopped writing. And the longer I didn't write, the more resounding the apathy for writing became.

A few life things happened,  that I can conveniently blame for my slackness. My dog died. And so did my other serious relationship. One day I moved out, leaving behind all the things I used to deeply love and instead I moved into a sharehouse and a sharegarden.

 And now here I am, feeling as though I'm beginning again; not the same kind of gardener I was when I wrote Death of a Thousand Worms  or   When God Gives You Cumquats  (I really liked my post about the cumquats).  In my old gardens, I was captain of the green sea, busily mapping out grand plans for my little gang, growing vegies for the season, potting jars of pesto and building beds for rambunctious tomatoes.

Now I live in the fourth garden since this blog's conception and these dirty little hands are a little more hesitant in this space, maybe a little more contemplative. There are far more pots of plants now, designed for transience not permanence.  Ornamental plants, plants with robustness, that can endure a little lack of sunshine, plants to gaze at over a cup of slow tea. These are what fills my bits of the sharegarden now.

All those ambitious plants, plants with a plan, plants going somewhere are less of a feature than in my last three green worlds.  I live in a deep garden with lots of shade and lots of other people's tiny histories in it. Overgrown vines, irrepressible succulents and trees meant for national parks fill up most of the back and front yards, adding shadowy corners and soulful little birds flitting on branches early in the morning.

It is undoubtedly a beautiful garden but perhaps it's real poignancy is that in the shady green light of this new space, it is reminding me that there is a different approach. I am no longer making plans, but just appreciating all the little forms of vegetative life that already exist. Activities that once were done in an energetic flurry before I planted a row of corn seeds along the back fence or dug out a garden bed? These activities are done now as a whole day's work - Watering by hand. Plucking rogue grass shoots out of pots. Sweeping the footpath! Today I spent four hours making a little pile for the green waste bin. Yesterday I just sat in my armchair for three cups of tea.  Slow and deliberate is how I find myself gardening.

And I think maybe that's the best way for these dirty little hands to begin again.


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