To the gardener, the garden is a gift
I got a call from a reader recently that got me thinking. She wanted some simple advice that I was happy to give her. We got to talking and she shared she was unable, at the age of 88, to do much in the garden anymore.
What a sad reality it must be to not be able to tend to the soil, the plants, to pull the weeds and to enjoy the harvest that comes from all our hard work.
She hasn’t given up completely, however. She has a rosemary plant indoors and is even considering rooting cuttings so she can share them with friends and family or donate them to a fundraiser.
The rosemary came from her daughter who doesn’t live so close. It seemed a fitting gift as rosemary, in herb folklore, stands for remembrance.
Each time she waters the plant, or prunes it or even cooks with the delicious, pine-scented leaves, she can remember. She can remember her daughter far away. She can remember a time when she was able to still get down on her knees to tackle the weeds in the garden and the flower beds.
She can remember the glorious orange and yellow chrysanthemums that lasted almost until Christmas on some years.
She can remember the juicy, red tomatoes and how delicious they were each summer still warm from the sun as she sliced them into the salad.
For those of us that are tied to the Earth in such a way we want to dig in her soil and reap the bounty of food and beauty that she provides when we guide her just a little, the thought of not being able to do so is a frightening and sad one.
We often talk about gifts from the garden in the form of canned goods, herbs and crafts that we can share with family and friends. Sometimes we realize the garden itself is a gift. It is a gift we give ourselves as we let stress roll away while we tie up tomatoes, apply compost and reluctantly squash little bugs that threaten to destroy next month’s supper.
The gift of the garden can be as simple as the smell of sweet peas, savory dill or apple-scented chamomile as we leisurely stroll through the beds and borders.
If you know a gardener that is unable to do what is required to grow vegetables, flowers or herbs, offer some assistance. A few hours a week and you might be able to help plant and maintain a small plot for an elderly family member or neighbor.
If that’s not possible perhaps a window box, potted herb garden or a patio tomato might satisfy; even something as simple as a rosemary plant that can be planted outdoors and brought in each winter to occupy the gardener when the skies are grey and the air is cold.
Gardeners need to nurture, they need to tend. The gardener must test the soil for moisture and knows just when it is time to water. The gardener needs to garden.
It could make a world of difference to someone whose hands, once stained with soil and the scent of the garden, are now only able to hold a small pair of gardening shears to trim the indoor potted rosemary. After all, rosemary is for remembrance.
What a sad reality it must be to not be able to tend to the soil, the plants, to pull the weeds and to enjoy the harvest that comes from all our hard work.
She hasn’t given up completely, however. She has a rosemary plant indoors and is even considering rooting cuttings so she can share them with friends and family or donate them to a fundraiser.
The rosemary came from her daughter who doesn’t live so close. It seemed a fitting gift as rosemary, in herb folklore, stands for remembrance.
Each time she waters the plant, or prunes it or even cooks with the delicious, pine-scented leaves, she can remember. She can remember her daughter far away. She can remember a time when she was able to still get down on her knees to tackle the weeds in the garden and the flower beds.
She can remember the glorious orange and yellow chrysanthemums that lasted almost until Christmas on some years.
She can remember the juicy, red tomatoes and how delicious they were each summer still warm from the sun as she sliced them into the salad.
For those of us that are tied to the Earth in such a way we want to dig in her soil and reap the bounty of food and beauty that she provides when we guide her just a little, the thought of not being able to do so is a frightening and sad one.
We often talk about gifts from the garden in the form of canned goods, herbs and crafts that we can share with family and friends. Sometimes we realize the garden itself is a gift. It is a gift we give ourselves as we let stress roll away while we tie up tomatoes, apply compost and reluctantly squash little bugs that threaten to destroy next month’s supper.
The gift of the garden can be as simple as the smell of sweet peas, savory dill or apple-scented chamomile as we leisurely stroll through the beds and borders.
If you know a gardener that is unable to do what is required to grow vegetables, flowers or herbs, offer some assistance. A few hours a week and you might be able to help plant and maintain a small plot for an elderly family member or neighbor.
If that’s not possible perhaps a window box, potted herb garden or a patio tomato might satisfy; even something as simple as a rosemary plant that can be planted outdoors and brought in each winter to occupy the gardener when the skies are grey and the air is cold.
Gardeners need to nurture, they need to tend. The gardener must test the soil for moisture and knows just when it is time to water. The gardener needs to garden.
It could make a world of difference to someone whose hands, once stained with soil and the scent of the garden, are now only able to hold a small pair of gardening shears to trim the indoor potted rosemary. After all, rosemary is for remembrance.
Published: November 15, 2011
