With gardening still in an upswing of popularity due to the growth of the organic and local food movement, I started to think about what motivates me to garden and what I get out of it, other than dirty clothes and sore muscles.
At it’s most basic, gardening to me is like performing magic. Like Jack and his magic beans, I plant a tiny little seed (or multitudes of them) and at the height of the season I have a plant that is thousands of times bigger than that little seed that started it all. It takes me back to my childhood, completing something and taking it to my mother and saying “Look what I did!”. Every time a sprout peeks its head above the soil, I get a little giddy. The success of getting an actual plant from a tiny seed never gets old. Even now, as an adult, I often drag my kids or my husband out into the garden to point at a little seedling and with a huge smile on my face say, “Look what I did!”
Another big part of my garden is the solitude that it offers me. I am a loner by nature, and gravitate toward individual type pursuits (reading, knitting, most crafty stuff). There’s something very soothing and spiritual about spending a cool, quiet morning checking on my plants and pulling weeds in complete silence. There is a time during the day after all the kids have gone to school and those that work outside of the house have set off to their jobs when everything seems to be in sync. The mild morning sun slowly warms up the air, the dew is still clinging to the grass, there’s something very clean and fresh about the quality of the air. Then I start to hear everything around me. Cardinals dart in and out of my yard, calling to each other around the block. Occasionally the hawks will voice their displeasure about me being in the yard and invading their turf. The squirrels and chipmunks come out to explore and forage, often chasing each other up, down, and between trees. Bees and wasps often come to visit, sometimes landing on me to see if I’m a flower, resulting in a gently wave of my hand to encourage them to move on (more the bees than wasps, I kind of wander away from the wasps until they leave). Everything looks so…green in the morning. And there is a feeling of oneness I get with nature at that time. My breathing slows and my ears perk up and I soak in everything using all my senses. Even the feel and smell of the soil & compost.
There is a big anthill at the edge of my garden (carpenter ants), and it’s amusing to watch them carrying a piece of mulch back to their nest. They work so hard, sometimes struggling under the weight of the wood they picked, but they don’t ever give up. I only hope they keep going after the mulch and not the bottom edge of my planting bed, but honestly, I’m not that fussed. I invaded their turf, not the other way around, and I try not to forget this fact when a rabbit has decided to nibble on my plants or birds try to filch my berries.
Gardening to me is not really about mastering nature or subduing it. It is about becoming a part of it. Celebrating the cycle of life that often plays out in my garden. There are births (germination), deaths (some premature) and naughty children (invasive plants), but I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Why do you garden?