Garden Plot
I'm not a gardener (or a cook, or a baker, or a...), but sometimes I try.
Several years ago these little garden plots became available, just a few blocks from my old place. So we snagged one. The kids were little, and we only had two of them at that time, so it was for their benefit--in theory.
We planted things. Easy things like lavender, kale, strawberries, peas.
And then we'd water them. That's just about it.
I have sweet little pictures of the girls all little, walking holding hands to the garden on a summer night.
The garden plot was another place in my community I'd love to go to with them, even once Hosea was born too, all of us as a growing little family, growing little plants. Hosea would be in a baby carrier and I'd lean over to water things and his face would go into them, or he'd grab them. Later, I'd put him down hoping he'd stay put...but he wouldn't. So I'd water and wrangle, water and wrangle...
People would walk by and chuckle, talk to the kids, tell me how cute they were.
Sometimes it would be so hot out and we'd turn the hose on over the grass there, and the kids would run around laughing and the mist would show little rainbows! What a gift for us apartment dwellers!
Often the kids would eat things right out of our plot: lavender, even. Greta loved the lavender.
And I still have dried bouquets of it in my place now. That plant sure is hearty.
Such joy and hope and innocence there in that garden plot. The kids watching and helping things grow like that. The place being a sometimes spot for us to all re-connect, work on something outside our home together. Feel a part of something bigger.
Just up the street from there is another little outdoor refuge--a playground the kids have spent their childhoods at. One summer night, after far too much wife-ing and mama-ing stress, when I felt I would just explode in anger and hopelessness, I took a blanket and a short walk to that playground. Plunked that blanket down on the grass, lay down, and stared up at the sky. It was summer, not winter, but life was still rough.
When I lay under the stars, though, all the things, rough or not, seemed so much smaller. And so did I, in a good way.
I found space from the things, and space for myself, under those summer stars there.
When I had the garden plot that was always my favourite thing, actually, to go out there often by myself, later at night. Let's say after a day of mama-ing and wife-ing to exhaustion. I'd go there and turn on the hose and fill the watering can and just water things. Trim things. Smell and taste and tidy things. People would walk by and say hi, and the summer peace would soothe me.
You know those summer nights when the sun stays late, it's warm, everyone is out still after dinner, it's hot in your place but perfect outside? So you go out for that air? That peace?
Ahhhh thinking of it now, in this coronavirus winter, makes it feel like an imaginary situation. But it's real!
I don't have the garden plot anymore, though, and even if I did, well, it's winter. And remember I'm not really a gardener even in "garden season"...so...
But I do have the community that garden plot was in. That strand that so much hangs on to.
Maybe because it's winter, I've been thinking about all that a lot lately.
Maybe too because a couple years ago the condo-crazed got permission to tear up all the land and buildings where that garden plot was. Which was really sad because so much community happens at that spot. So, I kind of did my mourning, gathered some last bits of lavender...and then......it actually never got all torn up! The deal collapsed, or whatever, and just the other day I realized this when the kids and I all walked by there on our way home from school.
But see now I have my own balcony and space for outdoor plants here instead.
I don't need the garden plot.
But I still need the other stuff.
It's true that the garden plot taught me a little bit about gardening. If you saw the plants on my balcony even during "garden season", though, you might wonder how much I learned. What I've realized is that the garden plot, more importantly, taught-me-reminded-me to find space from the things, and space for myself. Often these days I can simply think of that garden plot, and that patch of green grass I lay my blanket on under the stars, and the physical environment of my little community surrounding me, and it's enough to bring me peace in the midst of any winter.
Several years ago these little garden plots became available, just a few blocks from my old place. So we snagged one. The kids were little, and we only had two of them at that time, so it was for their benefit--in theory.
We planted things. Easy things like lavender, kale, strawberries, peas.
And then we'd water them. That's just about it.
I have sweet little pictures of the girls all little, walking holding hands to the garden on a summer night.
The garden plot was another place in my community I'd love to go to with them, even once Hosea was born too, all of us as a growing little family, growing little plants. Hosea would be in a baby carrier and I'd lean over to water things and his face would go into them, or he'd grab them. Later, I'd put him down hoping he'd stay put...but he wouldn't. So I'd water and wrangle, water and wrangle...
People would walk by and chuckle, talk to the kids, tell me how cute they were.
Sometimes it would be so hot out and we'd turn the hose on over the grass there, and the kids would run around laughing and the mist would show little rainbows! What a gift for us apartment dwellers!
Often the kids would eat things right out of our plot: lavender, even. Greta loved the lavender.
And I still have dried bouquets of it in my place now. That plant sure is hearty.
Such joy and hope and innocence there in that garden plot. The kids watching and helping things grow like that. The place being a sometimes spot for us to all re-connect, work on something outside our home together. Feel a part of something bigger.
Just up the street from there is another little outdoor refuge--a playground the kids have spent their childhoods at. One summer night, after far too much wife-ing and mama-ing stress, when I felt I would just explode in anger and hopelessness, I took a blanket and a short walk to that playground. Plunked that blanket down on the grass, lay down, and stared up at the sky. It was summer, not winter, but life was still rough.
When I lay under the stars, though, all the things, rough or not, seemed so much smaller. And so did I, in a good way.
I found space from the things, and space for myself, under those summer stars there.
When I had the garden plot that was always my favourite thing, actually, to go out there often by myself, later at night. Let's say after a day of mama-ing and wife-ing to exhaustion. I'd go there and turn on the hose and fill the watering can and just water things. Trim things. Smell and taste and tidy things. People would walk by and say hi, and the summer peace would soothe me.
You know those summer nights when the sun stays late, it's warm, everyone is out still after dinner, it's hot in your place but perfect outside? So you go out for that air? That peace?
Ahhhh thinking of it now, in this coronavirus winter, makes it feel like an imaginary situation. But it's real!
I don't have the garden plot anymore, though, and even if I did, well, it's winter. And remember I'm not really a gardener even in "garden season"...so...
But I do have the community that garden plot was in. That strand that so much hangs on to.
Maybe because it's winter, I've been thinking about all that a lot lately.
Maybe too because a couple years ago the condo-crazed got permission to tear up all the land and buildings where that garden plot was. Which was really sad because so much community happens at that spot. So, I kind of did my mourning, gathered some last bits of lavender...and then......it actually never got all torn up! The deal collapsed, or whatever, and just the other day I realized this when the kids and I all walked by there on our way home from school.
But see now I have my own balcony and space for outdoor plants here instead.
I don't need the garden plot.
But I still need the other stuff.
It's true that the garden plot taught me a little bit about gardening. If you saw the plants on my balcony even during "garden season", though, you might wonder how much I learned. What I've realized is that the garden plot, more importantly, taught-me-reminded-me to find space from the things, and space for myself. Often these days I can simply think of that garden plot, and that patch of green grass I lay my blanket on under the stars, and the physical environment of my little community surrounding me, and it's enough to bring me peace in the midst of any winter.
Comments
Post a Comment