The Scope of a Garden

A pandemic time is full of its own challenges, and unknowns, but add to it a long, dry period, well, the soul can take a dive no matter how much the mind tries to remain focused on what is known.

Welcome to my interpretation of what a garden is.  Beyond the blooms, shrubs, trees, and weeds outside, I see “garden” as a concept encompassing a creative life, interesting people now and then, daily musings, the challenges that lurk and the joys of everyday adventure and wonder.  Welcome to my garden and I hope we have much in common.

What a shock to know this thought has churned out in this COVID year when few really know what the future holds or how the present should play out.  Ah well, dive in!

Today is a green day.  Feels like a celebration as the recent rains which filled our barrels with hope, that have caused the grass and clover to return, has also tempered our moods – ok, tempered my mood.  Have you needed to find a focus everyday or have you structured in an order?  I’m finding that one plant might be enough to look at each morning and to wonder about the scope of its existence and place in a greater whole.  Sounds like a refrain from each of our own thoughts these days – at least with a plant, barring something unforeseen – oh like appropriate care – it has a pre-ordained cycle to follow which makes it wonderous!

IMG_20200810_095209_740

Case in point is this violet/blue water flower that surprised me this week – the leaves of this Common Water Hyacinth, Pontederia crassipes, in our small front pond (pondlet really) had me smiling as soon as I spotted it.  Also made me wonder how something so gorgeous could possibly be refered to as “common”.  Harumph.

A pandemic time is full of its own challenges, and unknowns, but add to it a long, dry period, well, the soul can take a dive no matter how much the mind tries to remain focused on what is known.

There was a whisper of water not far away.  It grew in gushes of relief as the clouds swept over the field in front of the house, a field where the silver maples were sighing as they gave up dried leaves. The time of the heat was taking a pause and there was a private celebration played out in every house, every heart.

Think of it as a massive mood broom sweeping away the cobwebs of temperature that clogged and claimed the brain.  A massive broom that put green back where it should be – on the plants, the grass, the soul.