PONDERINGS OF A GARDENER
Gardening is forever the same and yet always new and different. The process of working the soil for planting, adding the amendments, planning for the best results, sowing the seeds, waiting for germination, adding nursery stock or some you have started on your own, nurturing through the growth period and on to harvest or the end of the season, being the end of a wonderful cycle.
A person reaps the rewards of looking at a well groomed bed even though the fingers, back and knees ache for having achieved it. Watching the process of maturity and blooming while providing continual care is another reward. Always having access to new plants and many varieties of such is like having another Christmas with new "toys" to play with. The "kid" comes out in the gardener when he/she hears of or sees something they don't have. Like toys, one can pay much or little for the pleasure of having.
Gardening is much like life. The harder one works, the more pleasure one gets. One thing a gardener has, is an attitude that gardening really isn't work...it is pleasure that is hard to do at times. Sometimes things happen to ruin all of one's efforts such as too little moisture, too much moisture, hail, wind, pests, disease, frost and snow. But there is always a chance for a new beginning....always. And a gardener takes that chance and makes the best of it, knowing that all the efforts will not be wasted.
Gardening can be done on a small scale such as a potted plant within the home to a different scale of planting acres of forests, to woods, to beds, to containers, bogs and ponds. The dreams of a gardener are endless. Dreams are like hanging a carrot in front of a stubborn mule, to urge it on through....to whatever is ahead.
Gardening is a way of life. A place to work out the frustrations of the rest of the world, a place to go to think in peace, a place to stroll and enjoy the sights, smells and sounds. Gardens offer one the joys of accomplishments, a canvas to paint a picture, a visual product of the creator, a place to enjoy Mother Nature doing her thing, to quietly watch the birds, insects, spiders, wildlife, and another world altogether different from everyday life, yet in many ways, the same.
One can become a gardener at any point in their life. Some are lucky enough to be introduced to it early in life, others much later. Friends are easily made if one loves gardening on any scale. There are no age barriers to gardening or the love of it. Even when a person can't physically garden anymore, they will usually have house plants to take care of or look at. They will also take any opportunity to see another's gardens or visit public gardens for just the shear pleasure of it.
I once saw a blind man in a wheelchair in the Denver Botanical Gardens. As he was pushed on the paths, his care provider told him of each thing they were near. He would raise his head to smell the air about him, hoping for a familiar aroma to find its way to his nose. We talked later in a quiet area of the gardens. He was a long time gardener with diabetes. He had lost portions of his feet and could no longer walk. His eyesight was also taken from him by his disease. But this man had a smile on his face. He could remember all that he had done in the past and could relive it when he entered any garden. He knew the feel of the leaves, the smell of the plant and the color of the bloom. All gardeners can take their gardens with them in this manner and they do.
To encourage a person to become a gardener is giving a gift to them. To hand them a started cutting, a flower, the results of splitting, a seedling is an offering to a wonderful world. They have a chance to produce, protect, and nurture which are the things we are meant to do in life. We always are rewarded in some way for our efforts. Like life, we may have to wait, but it is always worth it.
As I sit here looking out at a gray, cold day which is the first day of Spring, I am reminded of the clock ticking ........waiting for the bell to go off so I can go outside and get into my favorite life, gardening.
By: Mick in Montana
(used with permission)
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