Lessons in Gardening - Chapter 01
In the short time I’ve spent here on earth so far, I’ve dabbled a lot in finding spaces or environments that help me to dig into deep reflection and find answers to big probing questions. Some of these places have been costly - like the couch of a professional therapist, others have been unique or quirky - like a sensory deprivation tank. All of these options worked well… to some extent, and have their place. But there is one space that really took me to a deeper place and allowed me to dig around and weed out the unnecessary. Yes, I’m talking about the garden.
I’ve always been pulled towards gardening but have never quite had the right space to put my roots down (okay, I promise, that’s the last garden pun). Growing up in the far north meant that there was a short growing season that didn’t necessarily nurture the casual gardener. It’s not impossible, and there are incredible gardeners up north, but it takes a dedication and commitment that I didn’t carry in my youth towards, well, pretty much anything.
In my early twenties, the bug bit me a little harder and I spent one spring collecting every free bedside table and aquarium I could get my hands on in order to convert them into growing spaces for my relatively small balcony. My two roommates with whom I shared this balcony weren’t necessarily impressed, though they cheered me on for the summer. It was a fun experience but after a rainy winter those press-board pieces of furniture were pretty much mulch and it was time to toss them.
This past spring, I’ve been lucky enough to find myself in a space that has a wonderfully large garden along with a seasoned gardener to teach me some tricks. I’ve watched and assisted as he’s grown vegetables from seed - starting them inside under the safety of warm glowing lights before hardening them off to withstand the winds and rain of the environment they’d end up growing in.
Once planted in solid ground, the work of the gardener turns into one of watching and weeding: watching for growth and celebrating, watching for disease and medicating, and weeding, weeding, weeding. For most, this last task is a back-breaking slog that results in them cursing at the sky and at their past selves for having grown such a large garden in the first place. I am not one of those people.
Weeding brings me immense joy. More often than not, I need to pull myself out of the garden in order to get on with my day. On more than one occasion, I have happily spent upwards of 4 hours sitting between the rows of vegetables meticulously pulling out every hint of a weed. “Why?” You might be asking. “Are you insane?” Well, maybe. But there is a lot to take out of this task… and I’m not just talking about the weeds themselves (I know, I promised! No more puns. Deepest apologies). Here’s my take on why weeding is one of the best forms of therapy:
1 - If you weed like I do, it requires that you move slow and really take the time to examine each plant and determine whether it is either helpful or harmful. By harmful, I don’t mean poisonous or invasive, but harmful in that it’s taking nutrients away from what you planted, what you want to sow. Essentially, it’s detracting from your goal.
2- It gives you the opportunity to understand where your food comes from. This understanding will likely make you feel more grateful for every meal you put into your body and grateful to the absolutely awesome planet that grows it.
3 - It gives you an opportunity to listen to your environment. Ever feel like your brain is a super highway of random thoughts driving at top speed as though they’re late to work? Or better yet, like a radio station that’s constantly switching between stations? No? Just me? Well, even if you don’t have that experience, how often do you take the time to stop and listen to the world around you. If you’re sitting in a garden, chances are there are some birds near by singing a little song and hoping that you’ll pull up a worm that they can nab for lunch. Even the sound of the dirt brushing and the leaves rustling can provide a sort of symphony. It’s nice.
4- When you finish, you can see the job you’ve done. You can physically see the before and after and boy, oh boy - that’s satisfying.
5 - Food, glorious food - Have you ever had the opportunity to eat fresh butter crunch lettuce from the garden? If not, I suggest you seek out that experience and savour every bite. Food taste different from the garden. It’s fresh, the nutrients are still packed in, not yet faded from a truck ride to the nearest grocery store. And knowing you had a part in bringing that meal to the table, now that’s pretty delicious too.
Not every space lends to growing and I recognize that I’m lucky to be able to spend a year in one that does. But if you have the ability to grow something, even just a single tomato plant or a little tray of herbs in your kitchen window, I’d suggest you give it a try. It’s one of the cheapest forms of therapy you’ll ever invest in and the returns are simply lip-smacking.
