As we approach the New Year, I'm feeling reflective. In a previous blog, I talked about why I think gardening is good for my soul. I left out one particular reason because it felt like a larger topic for discussion. This might sound corny but that doesn’t make it less true; gardening helps me feel grounded and connected to something bigger. This connection feels especially strong when I notice parallels between what's going on in the garden, and life in general. When I notice these parallels, I feel comforted somehow. It seems to reiterate the idea that life is about the journey, that you don't need to have all the answers straight away.
Lesson 1: Mother Nature usually knows best
There are parts of my garden which I sort of ignore, at least for now. Of course the plants that grow in these neglected pockets spread and flower happily every year. I admire them as I make my way to another area of the garden, trowel and secateurs in hand, and wonder why I spend as much time working in the garden as I do, if you can get results like that from letting nature take its course. It reminds me how life usually works out and that letting things be is sometimes the best thing to do.
Lesson 2: A little maintenance can go a long way
This past autumn I have tried to be more organised than usual and complete the big garden clean up before winter really sets in. Usually, in the autumn, as the leaves fall and the days get shorter, I just don’t fancy working for hours in the cold, as the garden dies back around me. I often leave those time-consuming jobs - mulching, clearing up and cleaning tools and pots - until late February, when I crave spring and want to be outside as much as possible.
But as we know, not all important jobs are fun, and tackling them sooner rather than later to get them out the way often proves to be satisfying. It’s a bit like when you have a big job that you put off for ages, because it’s tedious and dull and you just can’t be bothered to finish it, say for example, your tax return. But you know when once it is done, you will feel released and free. So, with that lesson in mind, I am cracking on with washing dirty tools, and tidying the garden now. I will thank myself in early spring, when I’m itching to get back into the garden, and will have sparkling, clean equipment to pick up and use straight away.
Lesson 3: Learn to embrace change
I am not a fair-weather gardener. Granted, there are occasions where I don’t particularly want to be outside, for example, when it’s raining hard and I have some monotonous garden task to be doing, like sweeping up soggy leaves and spreading manure on borders. However, I do enjoy working in the garden most of the year, the main reason being that I love seeing the garden change, especially in the spring. I really get a kick out of seeing buds form on branches, and shoots push up through the soil, even if I am watching them from under an umbrella, bundled up in a coat with a mug of tea warming my hands. And I always enjoy the glowing, autumnal show the garden puts on before the leaves fall, even though I know in a few weeks from then, I will be required to head outside in the rain with a broom to clear them.
I embrace changes in the garden, especially those that are a result of my handiwork, because they remind me that life is continually changing, and that we all have the power to shape the future. So, if big changes are happening in your life, and you’re feeling uncomfortable, as I think many of us are right now, hold tight and keep a beady look out for the new positives that may present themselves as a result.
Lesson 4: Everything is about the balance of resources
I have an Acer in my garden that is starting to outgrow its spot. It is a beautiful Acer that I want to keep, and in an effort to give it more space, I have already taken out the Lilac that was growing right next to it. I have also given this Acer a light prune the past couple of winters, which has been to its detriment. The truth is some plants don’t take too well to being constantly cut back, and it is becoming clear that this Acer is getting too big for the space, where it jostles with an ornamental Quince and the pervasive stems of a Virginia creeper.
I will keep battling on though, cutting back other plants so that it has more room.
It makes me sad that this spectacular tree may never be able to grow to its full potential, because its potential is compromised by the other plants around it, who all have to share the space. And this is true of people – as living things we all have to share the same resources, and as much as it might hinder our personal potential, we have to accept that, and so be it. We all compromise, negotiate, and much of the time just plain fight for limited resources, hopefully striving to find the right balance. In my experience, a garden is doing the same thing.
Lesson 5: You never stop learning
This is true of gardening, and of life. I've just turned thirty-two years old, and when I think back to my teenage self, or even my twenty-five-year-old self, I cringe at what I didn’t consider or even acknowledge about life around me. I know in another ten years, I will likely look back on myself now and think the same.
We never stop learning as humans, and I find this comforting, especially as a gardener. I love the fact that I will only ever get better at gardening and hopefully at life too, that my experience and knowledge of what to do and when should only ever get more refined, as well as my mental index of plants and how to care for them.
At times like this, I feel like my garden is highlighting to me how important it is to recognise that there isn't a limit to knowledge. If we assume we know everything there ever is to know, how will we hope to combat the problems of tomorrow? With the threat of climate change looming, fresh ideas need to hatched, new horizons need to be set and most importantly, new perspectives need to be encouraged. I think accepting that we need new information is a good way to go.
Lesson 6: It never turns out how you plan it
I frequently move plants and plan how I want my garden to look, but the borders never turn out exactly the way I have planned them in my mind. Either the plants don’t flower at quite the same time, or one particular plant will become invasive and roam into areas I don’t want it to. It’s annoying but you learn from it. You realise that perfection is a pointless pursuit because it's so unattainable. And that reminds me of life in general. You can plan your whole life, but things often don’t look how you think they will. Events come up unexpectedly and change the course, or a person may come to play a more dominant role than they did before. More often it looks far more complicated and messier than you hoped for. But if you take a step back and consider the big picture, it will probably still look beautiful.
Those are the parallels or lessons that I have noticed this year. I would be really interested to hear your take on this subject. Do these same thoughts go through your mind as you are gardening? Have you noticed a lesson I have missed?
Thank you so much for taking the time to read this.
Happy New Year.
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