What happens if at the height of harvest, you just leave the garden to fend for itself? Garden burnout – and overwhelm with life, politics, and everything else – is a real thing. Put down the to-do lists. Let it go. Escape to wild places. Live in the Now. Return renewed. It is possible.
My dog, Barkley, taught me about having a sense of place. This happens, he said, when we develop a sense of belonging; it becomes an extension of ourselves. When we connect, we care; when we care, we protect; when we protect, we try to heal, nourish, and help grow. It becomes our personal truth.
It is that time again to reflect over the year’s ups and downs, an exercise that has become cliché but that can still be quite helpful. It was a busy year! Here is a quick summary of what went down (or up, as the case may be) at Barbolian Fields, along with a few goals and strategies for the coming year. What will 2019 bring? What will we be able to do to make the world a better place? How will we help one another? How will we heal our planet? We can start by getting back to the garden.
I am always amazed at what is still blooming in November. Such gifts! The bees and other pollinators are especially grateful. So am I! In the midst of the leaf-raking season, be sure to take a break to smell the roses! Hope your Thanksgiving is full of blessings, your life full of gratitude, and your garden full of whatever it is full of. It’s all good!
Walk along a soaked garden path in early March and what do you see? Raindrops, birds, insects, and the world waking up. So amazing, it drove me to write poetry. Herein a poem for March, the wondrous transformations in a garden, and the miracles of spring. They’re everywhere. If we build it, they will come.
A thank you to those who take time out of your busy schedules to read my crazy blog – and a few thoughts on the solstice, tracking the sun, full moons, new moons, supermoons, holidays, the New Year, and cavorting beneath full moons. Why not? Happy New Year!
The Willow Room in spring takes on a life of its own. Individually, the reeds are supple. They bend with the forces that shape them. Together, however, they are strong – forever interlocked. Recent events in Boston remind us how together we are stronger, and, too, how each of us needs an inner garden sanctuary in which to find peace and make sense of this world.