What a Joy!
Honestly, for this week’s topic, I had to go back to my old post to see what I had chosen as something I wanted to grow. Quite funny considering I had chosen to literally plant seeds—or seedlings if you will! Then again, maybe it is a sign of a very well integrated former goal, right?
It’s become second nature to take care of my little garden, watering it, looking for its progress and soon taking care of this year’s remnants. Although I hadn’t considered myself to be a gardener I soon noticed how much I fell in love with my plants and the process of such directly visible growth. I feel connected with those green beauties.
I once read in one of Anthony William’s books about healing foods that if you grow your own food it is beneficial to let your plants “read” you so they can grow the nutrients you personally need. I found this to be a fascinating idea. I don’t know whether my tomatoes and lettuce were “changed” by me, but I enjoyed standing there looking at all the greens and spending time with them. During this summer I often went to check in with my garden when I needed relaxation. It soothed me every time as if the plants sucked up my stress and gave me joy in return.
My green-thumbed mother shared her abundant gardening wisdom with me this year, things I’ve never known. E.g. that you have to pinch out the shoots of the tomato plant for it to grow properly or how to tie up your plants. I enjoyed the time spent with my mother and the knowledge she shared with me. We had wonderful bonding moments.
Also I loved being able to pick my food super fresh. What a luxury to go downstairs and grab some fresh herbs or lettuce, later some tomatoes, too! Especially when living in the city. And tomatoes I had plenty! My father laughed when he first saw them saying: “They hang so full they remind me of grapes!”
It was also food for conversations. I remember one lady passing by telling me how delighted she was to see my abundance of tomatoes each time she took a walk with her dog. Another time a man who lives in the neighbourhood asked me how I doped my tomato plants for them to be so high (two of them are so high I cannot reach the top without a stool!). His wife also had some, but hers were neither that high nor that bountiful in fruit. We had a 10-minute conversation from which I learned that besides the apartment they live in, he and his wife own an alp in the mountains!
My choice to buy an herb I never knew before, my lemonade plant, paid out as well. It was delicious either having it infused in cold water or better yet, making some tea from it. The vibrant green color was amazing and the taste so delicious!
Something else I was pleased with was the ability to share my harvest with others, my neighbours, friends and even my Thai massage therapist. To share the joy I had was a worthwhile act of kindness for both sides.
Now as fall has hit it is time to prepare for the goodbye. Sure some plants are perennials and I hope they will grow abundantly again next year. But still, I feel sad for having to “close down” my garden soon. I will miss the moments in the sun spent with all my goodies. Maybe this, too, is a phase to learn from. To learn to say goodbye; something I’ve never been good at.
Yet one thing remains sure: next spring I’ll start all over again, and who would have thought: I can’t wait!