Whenever I start the garden season I remember how the earth yields a goodness not only in it’s fruits, but in its ability to reconnect us with what is important and thereby assist to cure the maladies of modern life, especially mending some of the broken places of heart and mind. Like weathered stone field walls, displaced by times and extremities, the heart and mind become disjointed and need the ordered tasks of seasons and good earth beneath our hands to feel the spring of hope. We rebuild our understanding of the sequence of life when we garden, and can endure the winter of harsh circumstance and words when the sprouts and fine smell of the soil remind us of recovery and rebirth.
The very compost speaks to us. Not all that is waste is loss, it has a different purpose for us, perhaps, but it has meaning and importance in the great overall circle of life and time. So the leaves have fallen from one season, and the coffee grounds have given their aromatic oils and are now spent, the offscouring of vegetable skins and fruit now past its prime is given to afford a coming generation with a fertile seedbed. New starts and new seasons, nothing truly wasted in an economy of greenness and bloom. But I must see it so, to use it properly.
I spent the beautiful days of this last week planting some of my vegetable garden, lifting and dividing some ground covers for new plants, weeding and clearing some of the garden spaces while the sun still shines softly and the rains are gentle on freshly dug earth. It settled my mind and gave me, if not joy, some peacefulness and time for reflection. Thinking upon what is good and lovely, what holds hope for the year yet to come, and how very, very good so much of life actually is.
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