MY GARDENIt is May. Having begun gardening in February with seedlings indoors, prepping of the soil and the long early Spring ahead, arriving here in the first week of May feels like completing the first leg of a marathon. Arriving here in late Spring is where it really starts to get good. I have seen the plants in my garden thrive instantly with the touch of the lengthened sunlight, the warmth in the air. I confess that looking at empty planters, stalled seedlings, failed plantings and slow growers can be the most challenging parts of gardening. But I remember that I do have some benefits I take for granted. The limitations of the apartment balcony garden have one clear benefit- pests just don't get up here. Having gone head to antennae with snails in my last in ground garden (and losing), it's good to remember to count my blessings. Nothing so voracious has embedded itself amongst my plants. My hope for the future is to once again have an in ground garden, and so I will contend with pests once again at that time it may come to fruition. The anticipation I feel in watching these plants emerge and arrive at maturity closely mirrors my interior reflections during the lockdown. I am anticipating so much, and also stumbling blind into the future not knowing what will greet us. Am I arriving at a more complete maturity? This is the hope, but I find I'm falling short of my hopes and expectations for myself. Like the rest of the world around me, we are collectively finding the truth that we lack control. And thus the challenge begins- how to accept this, how to live with it and still fulfill our purposes and seek to move forward. Stranded in this place of unknowing I don't have answers beyond those that may perhaps feel cliché, but for me hold the strength of truth. Faith, by its definition, is belief and hope in the unseen. In some ways I feel my heart was given some preparation for this time we're in now. At the time when I felt myself passionately drawn to preparation of the garden in January, in my mind it reflected the desire to continue on with a hobby that was quickly becoming a passion. However, I can now see the metaphor for this current time laid out in the empty beds, planted with seeds that came slowly, surrounded by grey, wind and unpleasantness for months. The future invisible to the eye but waiting for its timing beneath the soil, the process not completely free of failures and misgivings. And even now, the fulfillment and potential not yet fully realized. When this all began, I spent time thinking about the things that would matter in a year from now, as the only real short term goal, however abstract, I could really visualize. In my heart of hearts the fullest measure of Hope lies in the far future, at the end of my life, as reflected in my personal faith. But a year from now feels like the attainable step I can take now, actionable and driven by determination. After seven weeks in lockdown, that goal is still somewhat abstract. But you can be sure there's gardening in it, and it will involve more planting, of the soul and soil sort, and yes, likely more waiting. But what this lockdown is teaching me is that endurance can be cultivated, continuous and even if there is no clear end in sight, strength is renewed along the way. I hope you find yourself firmly planted today, taking steps, however small. Hope is near. TAKE A TOUR...Here is a look at the whole space where I grow my garden. Not all plants are pictured, but the two connected spaces where things are grown is fully shown. Enjoy, have a look around and let me know if you have questions about anything I've been growing!
2 Comments
5/15/2020 09:06:02 pm
Hola Nina, I have a question for you. You mentioned fennel and I am curious about what you plan to do with it. Today I planted a pan of seedlings. I have bronze fennel. I've seen it on a lot of menus, at one time fennel pollen was on plates all over town.
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Hola, Merry! I am planting Preludio Organic Fennel this fall, and the way I have always loved preparing fennel that is is caramelized in a pan alongside onions and used as a garnish for fish. It can also be chopped (all parts) and put into salads uncooked and I have seen the greens of fennel placed on meat and fish before roasting. The leafy parts are the most liquorice flavoured, the bulb less so. I could picture fennel placed into jars alongside cucumbers for pickling, though I haven't tried it and pickle making is an avenue yet unexplored for me. And as for pollen, I have never tried that, but it sounds imaginative! I see all this wild wind sown fennel in the neighbourhoods near us. I love that it's a vegetable that will go where it pleases and proliferate if we humans get too lazy about keeping an eye on it. Enjoy! I now plan to look up bronze fennel...
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NinaNoot- Christina (Nina) Wonglong time illustrator of whimsical things and a woman with a green thumb. Compassion and a desire to do something helpful compels me to write and share about gardening in hopes it may bring healing and delight to the souls of others as it has to mine. Check in every week on Tuesday for the unfolding story of my own garden alongside small growing project ideas, my successes and failures, and a sincere dose of hope in this moment of covid-19. Archives
August 2020
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