Back to the Garden

On Sunday, I introduced the therapeutic horticulture program we will be launching this season here at St. John. I reflected on the essential elements for life (food, shelter, air, water, healthcare, education, connection, rest, and hope) and how the garden is a place uniquely suited to bring all these elements together. It’s no wonder that our creation story places us in the garden. We were made for the garden.

I didn’t have much experience when I started my garden. The gardening I grew up with was devoid of any understanding of connectedness, devoid of wonder. Each spring I begrudgingly helped my mom mix up the blue Kool-Aid looking fertilizer and plant the flats of impatients. I raked up the debris as my dad worked his way around the yard with the electric trimmer. It felt like little more than tasks required to maintain an appearance that clashed with the half of a pick-up truck rusting away in the corner of the back yard.

When I started gardening for myself, I started not far from the approach I grew up with. I had little interest or care for plants, I just wanted some pretty flowers in the flower beds. Perennials though – I wanted my efforts to last more than just a season. Quickly, I grew tired of mowing my small lawn. I grew tired of what it represented. I grew tired of the efforts to maintain an appearance that I didn’t really like all that much anyway.

This Monday, I saw the asparagus popping up, my signal that I should start some of my cleanup for the season. As I removed the dried up, overwintered remains of last year’s garden, I marveled at all the life waking up around me, the plants I come to expect year after year – parsley, strawberries, valerian, rue… – and the new additions that I haven’t yet identified. A few years ago I found my first praying mantis egg sac in the garden. It was such a wonder. So far I’ve only gotten through ¾ of my main garden in the front yard and I’ve already found 15. I never saw a single praying mantis while gardening in my childhood.

This spring marks 15 years in my house and 15 years since I started to tend to my own garden. When I started, my list of essentials for life hadn’t grown from the list Mrs. Kristie taught me (food, shelter, air, and water). It wasn’t until after the most recent addition to my list, hope, that I realized I could find them all in the garden. Of course, I had been encountering them there this whole time.

Since making this realization, I find the words of Joni Mitchell running through my mind frequently, “We’ve got to get ourselves back to the garden.” We were made for the garden, and we have seen what damage our disconnection has wrought. When we harm the earth, we harm all that inhabit it, including ourselves. We are faced with an incredible challenge, but there is hope.

The sliding door is open right now. I hear a neighbor’s windchimes, cars (some intentionally noisy ones), some voices, a car alarm. It’s 11:30 pm on a weeknight and as quiet as it gets around here. I’m comfortable on my couch, in my house, outfitted with modern amenities. But outside is the garden, ready to welcome me back.