Garden – adverbs, adjectives and other qualifiers

20150309_175311

Around here we’re talking spring and that means priorities. I mean prioritizing the garden

I am apparently not the only one who feel an almost overwhelming desire to be outside in the garden come end of winter. Seemingly important things fall by the wayside in the rush to get things done for the new season. Some feel a sense of peace at this point, I have never felt that in the garden, I must admit. My reward is a sort of exhilarated rightness, like a boss jubilant that your work has done the company proud

Another observation is that I can get downright irritated at what seem to be small issues. Like not having a seedling house fit for purpose. I was upset at several of my seedlings dying when the wind ravaged the existing improvised housing areas (what flapping plastic will do to tomato seedlings cannot be borne or described!). It’s not even so much not having the seedling house but not having the materials to make one at a time of the evening when no shop is open anyway. Grrr!

The other thing I found is that I can be very intolerant once fully converted to an idea. The current idea is that if you only have a small garden then make it productive! I walk on the street looking at gardens, and I do so in a state of mild irritated boil-over (it’s ok, I have low blood pressure!) at how many ornamentals that are not even ornamental are gathered on places where a fruit tree or bush would at least soothe the above-mentioned growling beast in me I find myself nodding in approval when I see the almost ubiquitous here lemon, grapefruit or feijoa bush, as if it were any of my business, really!

Does that sound like I really should get over myself already and maybe not get so irritated with things that are at best out of my control and at worst uncontrollable?

You can blame it on my abundance mentality, fostered by the course I am currently completing. Grow a lot of food that is fit for divinity, is the motto. That still sounds mildly OTT even when considering external divinity, let alone when you are encouraged to nurture the sacred part of yourself…

Which only gets me more irritated… yes, truly! Have we really become so entrenched in the systems, so defeatist, so relativistic (is there even such a word in the vocabulary?) that we take our lives for granted, that we consider that inner spark our due, or worse, that we think it is nothing special?

Are there really so many of us that we cynically consider ourselves just replaceable cogs in the big wheel, that our lives and deaths will be utterly useless, eminently forgettable and no big deal to begin with? Do we truly not feel part of history?

Gardens are dangerous, especially in spring…

Advertisements

History

20170522_201404

I was somewhat confused last week for a couple of days. They were not good days, to be fair. I was walking in the old part of my town, where houses sit in quaint or highly maintained beauty. I like old houses, although I wouldn’t necessarily want to live in one. I love the quality of materials, the ornate details, the spacious feel of them, the established gardens. I wouldn’t want to take care of one by myself though, they were not meant for it and I would end up resenting it.

But I digress…

I was confused because here I was, watching history, surrounded by it, and yet I longed for history with everything in me, until it was painful. It took a lot of walking and analysing to figure out that, like beauty in another article, it was the degree of history, for want of a better word, that I was getting all muddled up about. Let’s see if I can explain.

I live in a very young country, set on very young land. Now don’t get me wrong, I enjoy living here and there is something to be said about the rebellious certainty of youth, children and teenagers alike. When I arrived here, I was in human years a bit older than this country. But human years being what they are, I am now much older than this country. A different generation already. Hence part of my discontent. From peer I feel now like a parent, wanting to guide, to teach, to shelter. If you have teenagers you know how well that will go down

I am grumbling, I know. There is nothing to be done, there is no substitute for time and experience both. So there is no fault. It’s just that, human years being what they are, I will be long gone before anything changes, and that is annoying

The confusion I felt was exactly this generation gap. The houses I was admiring are old in human years alone, and even then just barely. The history I was longing and yearning for goes a lot further back. Not just in human history, but sheer age of the land. Something to lean on to without feeling guilty I suppose

I can see only two ways forward. No, I am not going to get over myself. Denying a need does not a content human being make!

First of all I can get closer to the natural world of this country, especially as represented in the myths and legends of the native people. There is, after all, a time line of nature that might even be called permanence in our language.

The second thing I can do is travel to a place that has the history I need. Like burnt out execs blobbing in an all-inclusive resort I can also go to get my fill of history in older countries set on older land.

Sounds simple and in a way it is… now for the waiting until money and other things line up… maybe start with a passport as my Christmas present?