garden reflections
This post has been a while in coming… thanks for reading.
Last year I didn’t have a garden for the first time over 10+ years, it wasn’t even consideration. I had zero energy coming out of a crazy winter lodge schedule to tend to the previous season’s mess, that was neglected after I ended up on a last minute gig from September until mid December, plus I wasn’t going to be home until likely November or later again between my next two gigs. I literally hit the ground running saying yes to all the opportunities thrown my way and loved every minute of pouring myself into adventures but in the end it was my demise. While all this work got me ahead in some aspects of my life and I grew in some ways too but at the same time I didn’t. My body shattered, I was beyond recognizing my own exhaustion in an effort to just keep going and my mind was anywhere but where it needed to be. Basically, I was in the same state as I had left my garden from the previous year: full of abandoned and decayed plant material, broken beds and a whole new round of really big weeds on top of old ones.
How could I completely neglect something I love? The answer is simple if you know what I’ve personally been battling within myself the last few years. I feel my garden to some extent is a direct reflection of me. It always has been. Within this ever evolving space things die, things survive, things thrive and everything is rebuildable. Good daily reminders for a struggling mind. This space, while it makes my head spin it’s in all the right ways, still manages to calm me down from all the other shit rolling around (the push, the pull: the ebb, the flow).
All I really am sure of is that the entire process of gardening brings me joy. Though I knew I wasn’t really home again this summer I planted a garden… and it thrived. Did I thrive? Absolutely, I learnt so much this summer and it shows in my latest dishes that I’ve composed mostly from items grown in my yard. But some weeds always seem to grow back: the deeper the root, the deeper we need to dig to remove it and some just need constant supervision. A garden is a commitment just like self care. A little bit of weeding daily can go along way.
At the end of the day, I’m not sure I can actually put into words what this enclosed green space has done for me. Considering the amount of blood, sweat and emotion it has absorbed is acknowledging that the earth is capable of composting organic matter and still it gives back. The countless tears cried in there will water the seeds for future growth always (as they say, better out then in they say). There is no judgment or no expectations here - just a safe space.
When I moved to this place all that there was, was a green house which is but a skeleton structure now. I continually built the footprint out, found and laid the rock and hand sawed all the wood to construct the beds and the “keep the weeds down flooring” in this garden as it’s seen today. It is my ultimate masterpiece and I’m beyond proud of what I’ve created and grown throughout the years. It has no limits.
As I put the majority of my garden to rest for winter and planted some garlic I felt a sense of relief and euphoria that I can’t really explain. It might have to do with the fact I couldn’t really feel my feet or my hands and I knew I was flying back to Nicaragua in less then 48hrs but who’s to say. I didn’t focus my effort into pulling all the weeds because I know they’ll be easier to deal with in the spring but I’m conscious of them, always. No garden is ever the same from season to season or year to year and I certainly don’t intend to plant the same thing in the same spot twice.
The last dish I composed before I departed from items harvested from my garden was a sunchoke gnocchi (Jerusalem artichokes). A harvest that produced way more than I thought I would get and the tallest blooms in the garden. It is a good representation of all the above thoughts. After a year of no water only rainfall and no love this plant survived and thrived with a little bit tlc.
My style of cooking is is evolving and my gardening approach right along with it. I still have personal battles to face but by continuing to look forward, planning, planting seeds, covering my hands in dirt, acting like a sponge for all things culinary, balancing work with play and learning to tend to myself above all - I’ll be ok. Like my sunchokes I will survive and bloom. Going back to a place that has made me really happy this year is helping me to roll along and trust the crazy process and curveballs that life seems to keep throwing at me.
For now, I’m not really sure what’s next for me and it’s both liberating and exhilarating. Kind of like planting a garden… you just wait patiently to see what grows.
“To forget how to dig in the earth and tend to the soil is to forget ourselves.” Mahatma Gandhi