The Joy of Gardening - Finding Mindful Balance and Connection

I remember helping my mother plant in our flower bed when I was very young. I held the earth in my small hands and felt connected. I have never liked to swim in lakes or rivers or fly in planes. My connection and balance have always been to the Earth. As I journey toward the end of my life, I still find peace and balance working in our gardens and greenhouses. Planting in the earth and watching the magic happen as the small seeds turn into beautiful plants brings me joy.

I wonder if people took the time to connect, negativity would fade away. Find the simple things that bring us joy.

Granddaughter Emily, feeling a joyful connection.

Blackberry Magic

Last weekend I was battling blackberries. These magical plants have earned my respect as I'm sure if humans were not on this Earth, blackberries would rule many lands. I used to despise them while I hacked them down, but it is interesting if you take a close look at the blackberry plant. Underground, their roots expand aggressively, and when they grow along the ground, they put out small feeder roots. They have a way of wrapping around your legs or grabbing ahold of your shirt, skin, or pants, ripping holes. If you cut them back to the ground, they wait patiently and then come back threefold, their stalks stronger. The plants wrap around each other tightly, presenting a solid fortress.

Why do I respect these annoying plants? Well, if only I could be more like a blackberry plant. Strong and resilient, along with thorny and aggressive. Holding on to others while having patience when cut back only to become more powerful together. We can learn essential lessons on living our lives from the plants around us.

In the current social life flow, I wonder how divided we are becoming with the left and right, in and out, and up and down. Is it worth it to fill our minds with judgments and decisions to not trust each other? The separation between us brings valleys filled with emotional blackberries. Maybe we should allow these vines to grow and intertwine us together. Think how strong we could be together with acceptance and tolerance.

These plants know how to survive. Do we?

The Fence

This last weekend I started working around my parent's 102-year-old home trying to restore the outside area back to the past when it was well kept and beautiful. Both my parents are gone now. I came upon a small white picket fence that surrounded the back part of a patio in their backyard. I pondered a memory and processed the emotions with a bittersweet taste in my blood.

My mother kept the inside and outside of her home tidy until her body aged and her mind became sweet and simple. I took her outside one summer afternoon to sit on the patio and have a glass of sun tea when she looked at the old fence and said, "It needs paint, Judy."

I walked over and looked at the fence determining it was rotting and old and first thought to say, "There is no reason to paint this fence it is rotten," But, I stopped myself before the words slipped out and looked at my mom. Here sits a proud woman that gave me life and does not see the rot, only possibility. I looked at her smiled and said, "Sure Mom, you can watch me paint and let me know if I missed any spots." So, off I went to get the paint and brush and start the tedious task of painting the fence.

It took me three afternoons to paint the fence making sure I got both sides and the top and sides of the pickets. We visited and talked about life, family, and the farm. A repeated topic each day as Mom was unable to track new topics or ideas. The energy was strong with love as I logged each moment to have for my future.

When I finished we both enjoyed the sight of clean white paint. I was glad she could not get over to the fence and touch it as I feared it would not take much to make it crumble. Mom died three months later when her body failed. She lived with so much energy riding her horse in her eighties and lived each day fully.

Today I took a hammer and it took three hits to knock the fence down and very little energy to pull the rotten pickets and transport them to the burn pile.

I smiled and remembered this time as my heart filled with love for her, my family, and this wonderful place I call home. Perhaps we all need to paint a rotten fence with love to reconnect with ourselves and others.