One morning earlier this month, I awoke in a completely nasty funk. I was mad at the world, and I didn't know why. It was the day after I received my Covid booster, so maybe it was a rare side effect of that which missed being scientifically proven, but I have experienced this depth of mood change before and I keow it would pass within 24 hour. Sleep often helps but so does forcing my mind to think in other directions.
It's Christmastime, my favourite time of the year. I try hard to make it enjoyable for myself and for others, nurturing the child within me, but of late that's become more stressful. I love giving presents. I love the lights and decorations and the palpability of human kindness and good energy. My mother always made it special. She too loved the sparkle, the warmth of family, and comforting food. So maybe I'm missing her and the childhood magic of the season. Kids get so many things and our grandchildren are no exception. They are fortunate to have numerous sets of grandparents nearby to spoil them. I only ever knew one set, though near and dear to my heart, and ultimately that made Christmas getting together simple - we either went to Grandma and Grandpa's or they came to our house. No scheduling conflicts or dancing around multiple family members. Maybe I'm missing my grandparents too and ultimately the comfort of traditions past. During my recent visit with my life coach, Hazel, my grandmother was front and centre offering her sage, otherworldly advice and support, and that always makes me smile, for I am like her in many ways. Hazel asked me if I'd noticed my intuition more lately, if I had been getting the messages I was being sent? I admitted that I had been a bit 'out of touch' , feeling a little lost and uncertain within myself. Yet I felt myself gravitating towards simplification in my life. This was showing up in my cooking and I was seeking comforting recipes that were easy, economical and delicious. I'd had the urge to get rid of some things and organize my space. That was my intuition talking to me but I hadn't been acknowledging it and I had been shirking my self-care. I think part of the funk is that fact that I'm not busy enough right now. Yes, I needed a break from the garden, but it's not long before I'm chomping at the bit to be buried in some type or project. There was little on my calendar and I had lots of thoughts in my head, but I had a hard time bringing myself to sorting out what I wanted to be doing. For a few weeks, I had been trying to set a time to meet with a friend, Sue Allison, who had a number of gardening books she wished for me to look at and hoped I might find them of interest as additions to my library. The weather on the morning of my 'funk' looked like it was going to be good so I thought taking a drive with the dog and a walk in the park to meet her might just be what I needed. The stars aligned with each other to finally make it happen, an idiom which would come to be synonymous with a good 'kick in the butt' for me from the Universe. Prior to all of this, I had been reading James Hollis' Hauntings, at the recommendation of a good friend, a fellow intuit, a world-renowned photographer, and a lover of all things Rhododendrons, Freeman Patterson. I had been sent to spend an amazing day with Freeman during my stay in New Brunswick where I was introduced to his beautiful woodland garden and his beloved collection of Rhododendrons and Azaleas. During that visit he not only gifted me a copy of one of his books, but also pulled out a number of other books he had authored - one of which I recognized as having been given and in my studio at home. I knew then that somehow this man had been brought into my life with a purpose. He left a big impression on me and we have stayed in touch. I admire and respect him on many levels. So I met Sue at the park to browse through the books she wished to re-home. I'm sure the slap the Universe administered to me was audible. Immediately I recognized a name. One of the books was In A Canadian Garden by Nicole Eaton and Hilary Weston....and photography by....Freeman Patterson. I exclaimed, "Oh, I know Freeman!" , which took Sue by surprise...."You do???" And so the Universe got my attention. So, something took me there. Something connected me back with my old friend yet again. I was reminded that our paths crossed for a reason in New Brunswick in 2020 and also that my path crossed further with Sue, who had been an acquaintance I had met as a fellow artist, then on Facebook. My outlook turned at that very second. My mood lightened. The Universe sent me a message and told me to snap out of it. I had listened and the meeting had happened. Before we parted company that day, Sue said she had brought something she thought I should have; a set of hand-painted floral luncheon plates which had belonged to her grandmother. She told me a little about her family and how they had been friends with the Eaton family. I was very flattered that she would entrust their care to me. I left our meeting that day feeling lighter in heart and physically clearer in vision...I actually can see things in more detail, brighter and crisper. The cloudiness disappears. That's always a sign that I am where I am supposed to be. Later that day Sue and I connected again on Facebook, thanking each other for the visit, but Sue shared some information she had forgotten to say that afternoon. She informed me that one of her uncles is a Hodge. My jaw dropped and now the question is, are we somehow related? We share some similar family given names but we will need to delve further to see if we can connect the roots of the family tree. So needless to say, a coffee date is in order for the New Year with this potentially new-found cousin. I have directly related cousins with whom I've been wanting to visit to discuss family as well, and who have done a lot of the footwork in bringing family information together, so that too is on the list for 2023. We are all guilty of putting these things off until it's too late and many of us never write it down for the future generations. My new grandson bears my family name, Hodge, as his first. I couldn't be prouder. My son and daughter-in-law found a way to carry my family name on into the next generation. Hodge means famous warrior or famous spearman. Someday he will want to know his heritage and it is important that I provide that for him. Perhaps the message in all this is the importance of family. I feel the pride emanating from my parents. My son, who is so like my father but who never met him, feels his grandfather near. My parents would be so proud...are so proud...and little Hodge has many guardian angels. It may seem to you as the reader a roundabout way of getting messages, or direction in life if you will, but this is how my journey evolves, an example of the complexity yet simplicity of my thoughts, of life, and of how we are all connected in some way. Getting to the point where I now allow my path to lead me rather than me trying to forge its way has taken a lot of self-awakening, but not without help from my soul teachers and guides. The people we need in our lives are brought to us. It all takes time - 24 years I've been consciously working on this. It requires patience -which doesn't come easily for me. It is essential to be open-minded and receptive to the energies around you. They are there - waiting. While I'm still working my way through Hollis' Hauntings (a chapter at a time is enough to digest completely), I'm also reading Rising Strong by Brene Brown, one of my favourite authors. Brene perfectly marries analytical data and spirituality, vulnerability and courage, and celebrates this in our everyday struggle with life and longing and success towards the best person we can be. That's how it all started for me...I needed to find 'me'. I needed to find my purpose and know I was on my path. I am doing this and everything has brought me to this point, and continues to open up new insights, opportunities, and light into my life. I have always said that nature is spirit to me and I couldn't be closer to something greater than when I am in the garden. That is where I belong. That is where I think best. That is where I connect with the Universe. That is where my path aligns, and it all started with a garden gate through which I knew I had to go and knowing that through the fog on the other side lay the journey that belonged to me. I just had to believe, accept my vulnerability, and take that first step towards courage. It hasn't been easy but worth every step. I will close with an excerpt from Rising Strong that resonates with me. "Rising strong is a spiritual practice. Getting back on our feet does not require religion, theology, or doctrine. However, without exception, the concept of spirituality emerged from the data as a critical component of resilience and overcoming struggle. I crafted this definition of spirituality based on the data I've collected over the past decade: Spirituality is recognizing and celebrating that we are all inextricably connected to one another by a power greater than all of us, and that our connection to that power and to one another is grounded in love and belonging. Practicing spirituality brings a sense of perspective, meaning, and purpose to our lives. Some of us call that power greater than ourselves God. Some do not. Some people celebrate their spirituality in churches, synagogues, mosques, or other houses of worship, while others find divinity in solitude, through meditation, or in nature...expressions of spirituality are as diverse as we are." At this time I will wish you all a very Merry Christmas and much time spent with family and friends. May the New Year bring you health and prosperity. I personally feel an amazing year coming...not least of all because of the new angel in our lives who has stolen our hearts.
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Have I been busy since the last time I posted?? I guess I have as evidenced by the last dated post from February. In May, I decided to reboot my business and return to the style of gardening I love, the people I enjoy working for, and the efficiency of being in charge of my season from beginning to end. I once again could allow my knowledge and expertise to flow freely and I didn't have to jump through hoops any longer. It wasn't difficult to get back into the rhythm and I was very fortunate to have a number of my former clients return. It was much like a family reunited, because that's how so many of my customers make me feel. Their gardens become my gardens and the trust they place in my skill and judgement is humbling. I acquired a handful of new properties and overall it was an easy re-entry into the community.
Most of Canada enjoyed a wonderfully extended autumn, reaching well into November, with many plants blooming more than once. Our region received a good quantity of rain, enough to make scheduling a challenge, but which prevented lawns from browning and trees from dropping leaves prematurely in an effort to conserve water. Not all parts of Ontario were as lucky. My personal garden held its own, not perhaps flowering as prolifically as it has other years, but flowering nonetheless. The Cercis canadensis I planted last fall failed to bloom, but leaves appeared and it flourished throughout the summer. A happy gardener is this to see leaf cutter bee evidence amidst its leaves...a good reason to plant native trees. I can be patient and hopeful my little Redbud will flower next spring and that the tiny Quercus rubra (red oak) and native plants I planted will help to support biodiversity noticeably in my lifetime. Gardening is about hope after all. April 2022 began with a start one evening as a driver who fell asleep at the wheel crashed through the fence surrounding the front garden. After the initial collision with the steel railing, he proceeded to mutilate the garden arch and a number of garden obelisks, then went on to hit the cement wall of our front porch hard enough to ricochet away from the natural gas line, only to then collide with the air conditioning unit where the car finally came to rest and was prevented from carrying on through the back fence and into my truck. Needless to say my husband and I, and the shaken driver, were more than a little rattled. Luckily the driver was not seriously injured and that was the most important outcome. It certainly could have ended far worse. I was awarded the job of estimating the repair from a garden perspective in lieu of the deductible, which was actually a pretty good exchange. As luck would have it, most of the perennials were not yet awake and other than losing a couple of shrubs, my plants were largely untouched. A mason who knew his profession well repaired the block wall of the porch and it is difficult to tell which blocks had been damaged. Our fence repair however has been delayed as unfortunately the company we involved has had staffing difficulties. We have no doubt it will get done. One can only be patient. Gardening is about patience after all. My workload over the summer was comfortable. The majority of my clients were within an hour's radius which helped with the exorbitant costs of fuel through much of the summer and kept my earnings in my own pocket. Early spring of 2022 saw the removal of an invasive Norway Maple from our back yard in order to allow much needed sunshine to accommodate the expansion of my own vegetable garden. Whilst this was accomplished, I had not anticipated (although I should have!) the migration of the neighbour's Aegopodium podagraria (aka goutweed or ground elder) underneath the fence and into this newly sunbathed area. The spring 2023 garden jobs will include another attempt to 're-wild' this area beginning with moving the wildlife habitat I began to establish away from the fenceline so I can thwart the encroachment of the uninvited goutweed. I built a compost area using recycled wooden pallets, removed some fence to open the garden beds and created a walkway between the greenhouse and the garden. I began lifting cement slabs to make room for two small raised beds for vegetables. I also acquired a small cattle trough with plans for creating a pond in the spring to support wildlife. Additional plans for this part of my garden include creating an educational area for our grandchildren (all seven to date) to learn about gardening and nature, as well as possible relocation of a number of perennials to the front borders in order to expand the organic vegetable gardening content combined with edible perennials and other companion plants. 2023 promises to be a year of re-inventing my garden. I will re-design, re-move, re-plant, and re-think the plants that will reside there. The winter will grant me time to re-charge, resting my weary muscles, but open my thoughts to rejuvenation of my beds as well as re-branding of my business towards a more consultative service, all while awaiting the return of growth. Gardening is about renewal after all. The design studio was busy this year, starting off with a large native plant garden design which would allow the clients to plant in installments within their schedule. The process of design always feeds the creative juices and when designing for others who fully support the use of native species and working with the soil in situ, it truly fills my heart. At the other end of the scale, I designed a smaller but no less heartwarming cut flower garden after working with the customer's wish list, cramming in colour and variety. Both sites were soil-challenged, under different circumstances, but for the same reason - poor, shallow soil with a rocky substrate. Sometimes the key to success in establishing gardens in these conditions is to start with the smallest plants you can find. Roots will find their way. Similarly, I find myself re-imagining my business, gradually taking it in new directions, beginning with the smallest of ideas, nurturing them and allowing their roots to spread until they are well supported and ready to hold their own. Gardening is about sustainability after all. Into the fall, I enjoyed performing consultations, walking properties with their owners, identifying strengths and challenges and discussing solutions to help them develop the garden of their dreams. I seize every opportunity to share my horticultural passion and knowledge and to assure people that beauty is most definitely synonymous with eco-friendliness. Gardening is about being one with nature after all. With December comes the snow. My favourite thing is to watch it from indoors, with a roaring fire and a cup of tea. A blanket of white cloaks the garden creating unique shapes and everything looks clean and pristine. Many plants are still green and a quick thaw gives the impression of an early spring. One of my Hellebores is beginning to flower, soft white buds pushing above the soft white snow. My lilac, Syringa vulgaris 'Beauty of Moscow', is in bud. The green rosettes of the Papaver orientale, oriental poppies, shine a bright green against the brown decaying maple leaves surrounding them. Thoughts of the garden never end and while my body rests, my mind doesn't. The Vesey's catalogue arrives to add to the fervor of spring planning and the scent of conifers fills the air wafting from newly created Christmas urns and decorating of the tree. Poinsettias fill the flower shops. My house plants get shuffled around until their position for the winter is decided, wherever the most light can be found. My mind may be occupied briefly with thoughts of gift ideas and holiday food, but I know the gardening year never ends, for once the festivities are over and the New Year arrives, thoughts of warm spring days in the garden return and the planning begins again. The Artist's Garden at Vetheuil - Monet
At the end of a season of gardening, the gardener welcomes rest. We take on the characteristics of drifting into hibernation. We ebb and flow with the ups and downs of nature, taking her cues in order to guide us towards the process of our own rejuvenation and reflection. In the spring we are full of energy and excitement, chomping at the bit to get our hands dirty and breathe soil. The first weeks of clearing away the old to make room for the promise of the new are cathartic. Our bodies and spirits once again fill with wonder and vibrancy. Once the initial frenzy clears, we then settle into the sensation of satisfaction as we nurture and shape our relationships with the plants for which we care. A slight lull mid-summer offers us opportunity to fine-tune borders and to determine fall projects. By September our energy wanes with the fading of the flowers. The season is connected to our souls and the fatigue of growing emanates through our pores. We, too, long for sleep. Our bodies scream "Enough". This gardening cycle, no matter the setting, is always the same. The level of physical fatigue varies with the intensity with which we engage, but it is expected and we learn to pace ourselves. It's part of the cycle, the exertion of physical energy, but mental exhaustion isn't an expected outcome of working with plants or soil. It's not present when we work alone in a garden. It's something I equate to corporations and team settings where personalities rub. It doesn't belong amongst the flowers. It upsets the natural cycle. I remember a discussion I had with a former client when I first started my own gardening business. He said "some people are meant to work by themselves; maybe you're (me) like that?" I hadn't ever really thought of it that way. Before I finally made a decision on the change I needed to make to my life, I only knew that I had to get away from where I was. I had cycled through more than 30 years of starting a new form of the same job, the excitement of it only to quickly fade. Apparently I was missing the memo. It's interesting how life teaches us what we need the most, a learning process we rarely see coming. I do know this; lessons are patient, they wait for you, and they repeat until you finally clue in. But I thought maybe he was right. I was happy in my own business. I had found that for which I had looked for so long; flexibility, change, movement, nature, inspiration, motivation, a sense of control in my life, a means of doing something for people who appreciated it...solitude. I needed to nurture joy, peace and well-being, not antipathy, discontentment and regret. I needed to clear the mental fog that was taking over my life. Gardening did that. Immersing myself in plants and horticultural studies fed my self-confidence and nourished my passion. But then the questions, the voices of doubt, whispered "Is there something more?", "Will I get tired of gardening?" The universe responded by aligning itself to send me eastward. I thought that if I didn't listen to my heart, regret would fester and eat away at the personal progress I had made over the years to bring me to this point in my journey. It was now or never and I had to find out. The gardener's cycle continued; I rested over the winter, anticipated the spring, and felt the pull to the earth as plants towards the sun with a renewed energy and enthusiasm. The closing of the season brought with it the familiar craving for respite and the mixed feelings of not wanting to feel winter's cold grip, yet longing for its blanket of comfort . I loved my time in New Brunswick. But under the familiar vice of micro-management grew the nagging familiarity of low morale and mental fatigue. How could anyone be unhappy in a garden? Yet rather than accepting this as a sign that it might not be my future, I ignored it and looked forward to a second season. The lesson silently and patiently waited. Winter arrived. I plunged once again into learning all things horticultural exercising my mind and feeding my soul in anticipation of spring. The weeks were filled further with plans for my return to the east. But again, the universe had a different plan for me. Instead I found myself weighing the options of restarting my own business on the fly or taking a step in yet another horticultural direction with a landscape company. The latter appeared as an intriguing dangling carrot. At the time I wasn't sure I wished to return to my former business, so I pursued the carrot. I positioned myself to enthusiastically pick up the trowel and start a new form of the same job...again. The lesson positioned itself as I circled around. I felt excited, aligned, and highly motivated heading into the new job. The vibrations of spring pulsed in my veins. The cycle began again. But early on I warily felt the slippery slope to discontentment forming. I suspected strongly it wasn't going to be the position for me. However, when I start something, I finish it, at least to the end of the season. I did my best to adapt and accept. How can anyone be unhappy in a garden? Where had I heard that before?? The physical aspect of a gardener's job is simply a reality and it's the exercise I love. I can handle that. What I had not expected was the extent of mental exhaustion I encountered and the familiar pangs of micro-management and low morale I associated with past situations. I recognized shadows of a former frustrated, uninspired and stagnant self; a person I had worked so hard to leave behind. I felt my passion being drained. I was more than that for which I was being given credit. Lesson delivered, accepted and understood. We all have expectations. We all develop these expectations based on perceptions; our own and those presented by others. When our expectations aren't met, they lead to making decisions and learning lessons. Sometimes those lessons have to beat us over the head a few times before we become cognizant of the message we're supposed to be receiving. The teacher is patient and the lesson will repeat until we get it. Life's funny like that. The latest gardening season came to a close, as it always does, but later than I was truly ready for. My mental capacity for energy was gone. I needed to step away and decompress. I didn't like how I felt. I had a choice to make, but I needed quiet time to sort it out in my mind and be confident in my reasoning. I needed to busy my hands and mind with things for which no time had been left by my rigorous schedule. I did not feel the comfortable release into hibernation. It was not the easy transition of a gardener who is satisfied with her season of tending plants, connecting with people and making a difference in someone's life. I needed to be true to myself, to my values, and make the best decision for my own happiness and sense of peace. It has been a winter of contemplation. I've spent two years searching for something more, not knowing what that was supposed to be, only to cycle back around like the cycling of the seasons, the cycle of renewal from winter to spring, and the inherent cycle of the gardener, in order to learn that what I had was what I needed and the only way I was going to learn that was by placing myself in other situations so that I could solidify that for which I already knew in my heart. This gardener can finally sit back and feel the protective blanket of snow all around me. Hibernation is now palpable. I am again excited for the spring and for new 'old' beginnings as my list of gardening clients grows. There is a peacefulness in my mind and a assuredness in my heart. There is a feeling of purpose once again lifting my spirit and the return of a lightness in my mood. The days are getting longer. Seeds are nestled into trays in my mini greenhouses and cuttings into pots. Before long I will be sharpening tools and getting ready to be back where I belong and making a difference in other peoples' lives...and I can't wait. The lesson? Sometimes what we think will make us happier, doesn't, and what we need, is right in front of us. It's important to have the courage to figure that out. January 1, 2022 My back yard in Durham, Ontario, Canada. I expect to walk outside and see flowers blooming. We are not accustomed to seeing grass in Grey County in January, but in true Grey-Bruce fashion and as I publish this first post of 2022, the ground again is cloaked in the white of winter. The year 2021 is now but a mere memory. For many around the world it was a year filled with frustration, uncertainty and fear. We can blame Covid-19 for most of this. As we enter into 2022, scientific specialists are cautiously optimistic that with the speed at which the most recent variant, Omicron, is travelling, and the fact that so many are now vaccinated, we quite possibly may be witnessing the weakening of the virus that has kept humanity at bay for the past two years. I for one certainly hope they are right and I have fingers, toes and everything crossed as is anatomically possible. A glimmer of light at the end of this tunnel.
But not everything has been negative. I wish the media would focus more on the many positive things that have transpired due to the requirement of limited social movement. Interest in gardening has exploded worldwide. Nurseries and seed suppliers have sold out due to increased demand. Online courses such as those I have been enrolled in over the past few years have enjoyed increased interest and participation as people seek more knowledge and changes in careers...and have the time to do it. People have found refuge and peace of mind in creating or expanding their gardens. A whole new culture has emerged. A return to the earth. An awakening in the importance of how we treat soil, plants, and nature, and finally really seeing how it is affecting us all. Covid has opened eyes that would have remained shut by forcing everyone outside where we can be safer. It's a good thing I think, although a part of me worries that horticulture will go the way of the professional photographer - once everyone gets a cell phone, then suddenly everyone is a pro. At the end of each gardening season, plants die back into the earth to feed the soil for the new year to follow. The nutrients they have taken from the soil are returned to it through decomposition. When left in situ, this naturally fertilizes the soil. If added to a compost pile, it slowly breaks down to prepare for use wherever needed. I advocate for leaving as much material in the garden as possible. Some I leave standing to provide over-wintering habitat or seeds for wildlife, but most I cut and let lie on the ground lessening clean up in the spring, not only because my career as a horticulturist sometimes leaves me little time for my own garden, but because I just think it's better for my garden and the wildlife it supports. In the spring I like to let the garden emerge at its own pace without disturbance. I don't mind the messiness. One soon forgets it as you focus on fresh spring shoots and twinkling blooms as new growth blankets the ground. When the calendar turns to a New Year, I like to think of the past year as compost; fodder for the new. Everything we have experienced and learned adds a new layer of nourishment to the old which refreshes our knowledge, our goals, our dreams, our happiness, our challenges. Something that is supposed to melt away into our souls and minds adding to the people we are. It builds character, feeds emotion and nurtures the development of wisdom...and the future. In retrospect, I would have to say that 2021 was not a particularly easy year for me. I spent a lot of time in self-reflection, making the best of a difficult circumstance, second guessing my path and feeling unfulfilled. I did not like the prickly, thorny me in 2021 and I intend on burying that me deeply in the compost heap. I look back at the challenges I faced, all of the self-talk I participated in and all of the talk outside my head that my husband, sister, and a select number of close friends patiently and lovingly endured. I am so grateful for their support. In short, 2021 began brightly, but quickly changed leaving me without a position to which I had been looking forward, applying quickly for an opportunity that seemed inspiring, weaving my final university courses through onboarding into a new position and through a grueling 50 hour work week, deprived of personal and family time because of mental and physical exhaustion, and feeling underutilized as the horticulturist I have become. Yes...I haven't been a happy gardener. I am not a quitter. I believe in finishing what I start based on situational time limitations and/or boundaries. I used to tell my sons that once they signed up for something they had to stay with it through the first season, and then if they were still unhappy about returning to it, they could then decide not to continue. It's sometimes necessary to ride things out in order to give it a fighting chance and to be able to make an informed decision. It's also sometimes necessary to make personal concessions to get oneself through a stressful situation which can be extremely draining, but I do have limits, so I have discovered. The negative things I add to my compost pile this year include disappointment, exhaustion, conflict, concessions, intolerance, deprecation, ignoring my true self, double standards, disorganization, underappreciation, poor life balance, bad diet, disinterest, anxiety, disillusion, frustration, fear of illness, bad mood, loneliness and sadness. 2022 is going to be about being positive. What positive things did I add to my pile from last year? Pride and sense of accomplishment, desire to keep learning, increased knowledge and new skills, dedication, self-worth, hope, trust, and a sense of direction. There were moments of joy. From a place of deepening despair and a struggle with what was most meaningful to me, I was able to end the year with clarity, stepping back and settling my soul away from commitments to put my thoughts in order and make sense of the feelings that clouded my year. I busied my mind with organizing the house and finally finishing a daunting wallpapering project that I avoided for far too long. It terrified me. I am no stranger to the leap of faith. I decided the circumstances once again warranted me taking another. Over the next four days, with my self-induced incentive that I couldn't get the Christmas tree until the room was ready, I wallpapered, and I finished. My mother was the wallpaperer in my family and I used to help her by turning up the dripping ends. Not my most favourite job. But what goes around comes around and most wallpaper today is unpasted. The process is simplified by applying paste directly to the wall and then positioning the dry paper. It's - so - simple! The luck of the Irish and my mother in spirit were with me that week. I had just enough paper and I matched every single piece. The tree went up, all in time for my sister and her family to arrive for a Christmas visit. Such a huge weight lifted from my shoulders and I ended the year quite pleased with myself as well as feeling a little foolish for overthinking it all. If I had to apply a theme to my 2021, it would be vulnerability. This word presented itself to me in week #52. It appeared in my writing, in my reading, in videos I was watching. This is the kind of thing I have learned to take note of for when a theme repeats itself specifically, there's something in your life needing attention. One of my favourite inspirational writers is Brene Brown, a researcher and author who has spent 20+ years studying courage, vulnerability, shame, and empathy. She defines vulnerability as "...uncertainty, risk, and emotional exposure...that unstable feeling we get when we step out of our comfort zone or do something that forces us to loosen control." My life has always been very much about control. This can be good or bad, depending on the circumstances. So loosening control is a big deal for me. Because I loosened control in my life, I have allowed my path to take me where I am supposed to be - good thing. Over the past year, loosening control brought instability into my life - not a good thing. Along the way, I lost the balance I crave and absolutely must have to be happy, but above all else, I forgot to be true to myself. Along the way I have learned "vulnerability is not weakness, it's our greatest measure of courage" (Brene Brown), "vulnerability is the birthplace of innovation, creativity, and change" (Brene Brown), and "to be successful you need to be comfortable with being uncomfortable" (multiple quotes). I am the walking definition of vulnerability. Because of courage, innovation, creativity and change, because I have repeatedly put myself out there, made myself uncomfortable, I have achieved success. I have learned a lot about myself and attracted the experiences that continue to help me grow as a person. I have opened the way for what is meant to be for me. Every living thing on this planet is vulnerable in one way or another. A tiny seed falls to the ground where it is vulnerable to the elements. An Ash tree is vulnerable to a tiny foreign invader. A caterpillar is vulnerable to hungry predators. To live is to be vulnerable. The garden subtly teaches us about ourselves. It is a place where I feel protected, peaceful, and safe. In my garden I am completely myself. My passion grows from the soil and reaches towards the sun every day. This is my element. In 2021 I felt a disconnectedness from my own garden and those I am so used to tending. There was no nurturing in the landscapes I maintained. There was no inspiration or passion to the styles of gardens for which I cared. In fact, there was no caring at all. No love for what I was doing. No sense of purpose. And that made me feel vulnerable. As I head into 2022, I look back at how I cultivated and nurtured my mind and changed my style of gardening, but in the process my soul starved. In assessing the compost I've laid down for the year ahead it is certainly full of nutritional elements, but maybe, just maybe, I didn't plant myself in the right place. Maybe it's time for some crop rotation. I must consult the Almanac. Happy New Year! May it be full of new adventure, health and happiness for all. Art by Jill Faragher "Stunted plant or seedling growth is a symptom of a larger problem and an indicator that your plant may be in poor health. Diagnose the cause of stunted growth in plants to determine the steps to take to resolve the issue. You may need to treat a disease, provide supplemental fertilization or change the growing conditions, so your plant can thrive." www.homeguides.sfgate.com Just as a plant needs the correct growing conditions, so do we humans. Sometimes it's not easy to diagnose what one thing or combination of things is going to perk us up and get us growing in the right direction. We need reliable sustenance. When that is disrupted, for whatever reason, we have to be strong enough to reach out and find alternate resources. If you have been following my blog since its inception, you will know that I believe that everything happens for a reason. Life throws sunflowers and roses, but also thistles and burdocks. As a horticulturist, I understand the life cycle of a weed and how to identify it. I also know that the most noxious weeds in our gardens are next to impossible to eradicate. So, we learn to live with them, and stay on top of the destruction process, patiently removing them repeatedly and consistently so to keep them from crowding us out and losing sight of the path we need to follow. When I last wrote six months ago I was excitedly planning my return to New Brunswick, looking forward to taking on a new position and seeing the friends I made last summer. I was making plans. I felt like my life was headed in the right direction. I confirmed that my departure was definite and details were being finalized. Then two weeks later my growing conditions changed suddenly. I received an email that my position was being withdrawn and that the items I had stored there for the winter could either be sent to me or they would offer to provide a monetary equivalent. My response to the email was "Wow." I couldn't find words. Part of me wasn't surprised. Decisions changed on a dime constantly in the garden and one was always on edge. It wasn't uncommon to be criticized for doing something you had been asked to do an hour earlier. Still, I passionately felt like I could have made a difference. Experience is a teacher. Wisdom is recognizing the lesson. I'm not one to sit around and wait. Within an hour of receiving my "Dear Jen," letter, I had updated my resume and requested that the referral letter, which had been offered, be forwarded as soon as possible. Arrangements were made for the clothes I had stored in St. Andrews to be shipped to me and the rest of my belongings I'd hoped would be given to someone who might be able to use them. I later learned that one of my good friends there had use for some of these and that made me happy. For approximately a month prior to the sharp turn my life's path took, ads for employment with a local landscaping company appeared on my social media feeds and did not go unnoticed. I remember thinking "That sounds like a really interesting job." So when garden gates started swinging again, I quickly sent off my application, closing one door behind me and opening the next. That's just how life works for me and I am grateful to be able to recognize it. Soon I found myself accepting the position of horticulturist and lead hand to the garden management supervisor in a well recognized company with a vision of leading with expertise and nurturing a team atmosphere. I began orientation within the new company the last couple weeks in March. At the same time I was finishing up the two diploma courses I had begun in January. I do not usually take more than one course at a time but as I was off for the winter I thought it was the perfect opportunity to get two of the three remaining courses off my plate. Starting a new job at the same time that final assignments were due was tricky, but the company was sympathetic to my needs and supportive in schedule. Onboarding commenced as my last assignment was submitted. I have been a gardener now in three different capacities; 1. having owned my own personal business where the focus is providing a service for people who love their gardens and who have difficulty maintaining them by stepping into their shoes and caring for the plants as if they were my own, 2. having worked in another province in a provincially owned botanical garden where people visit specifically to admire the beauty of the plants and design and the onus is on perfection but at the expense of being able to completely follow my heart, and 3. being employed in a company where expertise and excellence are the goal, where business is profit-driven, serving people who largely have no intimate experience with their gardens. Each scenario has its own set of pros and cons. Each setting is rewarding in different ways. None come without stresses. I've fallen from the path on which I began. I have learned much about humanity. I have been gifted experiences which leave me feeling unsettled. These are steps of learning required to take me to whatever the next level is for me. The only constant is understanding how my heart feels. Right now, it aches and weeps. It's so tired and confused. Fifty hour work weeks are exhausting, physically and mentally, but normal for a landscaping company. I feel like a tiny oak tree who only wants to stretch its branches and be the biggest tree in the field. Stresses are weeds and constant encroachment is growth stunting. My insight is shrouded in a layer of something stifling. I'm struggling to preserve my passion for gardening which has led me here. There are messages in this for me, I know there are, but I feel foggy and unclear. I very much want to experience the awakening, the 'aha' moment that I know is coming and to realize what I'm supposed to understand. I feel the need to reach into my deepest soul again to free my roots from entanglement. I need to remember this is a process that must be ongoing. I tell my gardening clients that one has to stay on top of the weeding. There is no one-time treatment. It takes focus and work and patience. I am once again reminded that I am never too far off my path to get back on it. Once I clear the weeds, it will be there, and I will find the nourishment and growth I crave. I have received much encouragement from those who enjoy my blog posts. I feel like the past six months have been a block. I have not allowed my thoughts to flow but I have also lacked the energy to do so. When fluids in a tree are prevented from moving, the tree becomes 'girdled' and dies. We are much the same. Writing allows my thoughts to flow and I can then think more clearly and be happier. The trick is remembering this and not allowing the weeds to get a foothold. Over the past few years as a professional gardener I've fielded the concern from clients that their tree or flower isn't growing. My first question is always "when did you plant it?" Most often it's something that has only been in the ground for perhaps a year or two. My rule of thumb is that the third year is the charm. By then the plant has had time to expand its root system and settle in so that it can then concentrate on the process of growing. Many times I've transplanted trees and shrubs only to have them simply sit there, until suddenly, their growth takes off. Ensuring that the soil you set them in to begin with is optimal for that plant certainly helps those roots to get a good start. It's not unlike people, moving to a new community. It takes a while to put down roots, settle into the ebb and flow of the people around you, but unlike plants there's no magic number for when you feel part of a new place. But again, the ground on which you plant your feet has a lot to do with the success of your transplant.
It's February...the second February I find myself wondering whether I will get East. The second year of waiting to see what happens because of pandemic conditions and activities. I am more confident however and questioning less. If it sorted itself out last year when all was new and panicky, it will again. We have learned much over that time. Believing is the only way for me to approach it all. We've had a year to get with the program. This year though we are faced with variants in the virus which raise new flags and concerns. The world has only just got the vaccine rolling out, quickly to be challenged by the possibility that the virus is smarter than us. But science knows that this is the habit of viruses. They mutate all the time. We will cross our fingers and toes and take the shot in the arm. It's a leap of faith I will take when offered. I don't play Russian roulette. However, right now it looks like that won't be happening while I'm here at home, not before I hit the east-bound highway, and maybe not even until I return later in the year unless I can jump on the list in New Brunswick. I figure that by November, the booster program will be underway for the next flu season. By then they should have tweaked the inoculum further...heading into year two...once the herd immunity facet takes hold. Year two of expansion and settling. Year two at Kingsbrae. The noticeably longer days remind me that spring is on its way. As much as I look forward to being back in New Brunswick, I conflictingly find the days passing far too quickly here in Ontario. Part of that is my own doing. I embarked on two, not one, but two, university courses in January. It seemed like a very good time to move toward my horticulture diploma. It's winter, I'm happily home for the duration, two birds, that sort of thing. And the time is flying. On the other hand, I'm grateful I have these studies right now. We can't see family because of restrictions. We are limiting our travel and exposure. My courses are keeping me content at home. Our region is doing strikingly well with thwarting the spread of Covid, but it's still here. Even with the vaccine, it will still be here. I've ordered new masks, which haven't yet arrived because Canada Post is so very busy these days with online deliveries slowing the system. It is such a struggle to find good fitting masks and now it's being suggested we layer them in triplicate. Funny how masks are so very important now. Where was that guidance when this all began? Never look back. This year I'm only looking ahead. I'm not yet in full preparation mode for my return to the sea. Two pair of Dickies work pants, a warm quilted vest and a pair of construction grade Blundstones sit in the packing pile. I'm awaiting new masks, a heavy apron and secateurs. I'm hoping in-store shopping is able to start again so I can get my stash of gardening gloves. I'm more relaxed about what I need to take with me because I have that first year under my feet. And now this is the year my roots expand. Settling continues. Searching for ground to hold me. Seeking that which will feed me to prepare for year three, the year my growth accelerates. Year two I head into a new apartment and a new position. Familiar yet foreign. Still finding my place. Still searching for sustenance. Still building relationships. Confident that my roots will find what they need there. I'm not the only one adjusting. My environment will still be adapting to my presence in the landscape as well. I haven't learned everything I need to know yet. I'm still reaching through the soil and gathering the elements I need to grow. I'm thankful for a lull in my studies this week. I submitted my first assignment identifying and researching plant diseases I might encounter in my 'woody plant nursery in Ontario' as well as completing my first quiz in my second course. It's all good for the organizational skills. The 'first' of anything is always the toughest and once past that the unknown dissolves. This week I can basically just read and hopefully have time to work on my living room walls to prepare them for the wallpaper that sits in a box at my feet. That is the one thing I really want to have finished before April. The paper is a granite grey with a twig pattern; of course it would be something botanical, and is perfect for our century plus living room with a slightly modern twist. I can hardly wait for it to be looking back at me from the wall. I'm peering at my garden outside my window. It sits in anticipation of spring as well. I miss it. This year I really need a gardener to care for it while I'm away. That's a bit of irony. I managed to tidy it all in the fall and my husband did well last summer to keep the biggest of the weeds out and tree seedlings. I can do some spring pruning now. It's a good time to check for gypsy moth egg masses and scrape them off the trees. I will be out there edging as soon as the snow is gone. I would love an afternoon to putter in my garden shed, organize it and decide what tools I might have that I can take with me for others to use at work. There never seemed to be enough of one thing or another last year. My tools might as well be used. I'm still getting inquiries from gardening clients to get on my list for this year. That tugs at me a bit, but I'm really happy knowing that I'm on the path I need to be for me right now. I see a really cool future inching its way towards me. It's not clear yet, and it's not supposed to be, but I trust in it. I know my business was a huge part of my personal growth, a gigantic indicator for what I was to be doing, and that Kingsbrae entered my life in what was more than a coincidence. Every day I learn something new, I see my path, and it just feels nourishing. The path of my journey is one big tap root and I am the oak tree seeking sustenance and growth. "...a tree's root system is not given the appreciation it warrants. This configuration of underground tentacles is the source of health or illness for the tree, and when winds buffet the tree, it serves as an anchor. The root system of a mature oak tree can total hundreds of miles. An oak's chief support, the taproot, grows vertically for some distance before branching out." (homeguides.sfgate.com) I love oak trees. They support hundreds of species of wildlife. They require vast amounts of space to grow properly, but when they do they stand straight and confident and true. We had a beautiful old one near our property in Paisley which lovingly and conveniently mulched my flower beds each fall. The wind swirled around our house and deposited an insulating layer of leaves around each plant without fail. I think an oak personifies my journey well. In comparing the process of finding yourself with the above quote, others won't understand or appreciate your journey. Your journey is the source of your own well-being, your sense of belonging...your reason for being. The winds of challenge move us every day, and our path, our tap root, holds us firm with reassurance and purpose...our anchor. It can take us many, many years to mature and find that which we are meant to be doing. My oak is over 50 years old, only sending out vertical roots for the past 20+ years...and now my roots have branched out over 1600 kilometres to a place called St. Andrews, New Brunswick. Here is where I will find my sustenance. Here is where I am establishing my roots. I've been reading a book entitled "Braiding Sweetgrass" by Robin Wall Kimmerer and really loving it. It has such a lesson to teach us all. Please enjoy this video entitled "The Honorable Harvest" and really listen for her words are full of wisdom and the Indigenous ways we all should be learning from.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cEm7gbIax0o7 The fire is aglow. My toes tingle in the heat. It feels so nice. Holly is stretched out along the hearth soaking it all up; her favourite place to lie. The living is room is cozy. The day has quietened into night and the road traffic is still. The foot or so of fluffy new snow from our second biggest winter storm covers the ground outside in a fresh white blanket, muffling any traffic that does pass. It truly is beautiful, but I'm happy and content inside. The dishes are done, the dryer is rumbling away upstairs and the lamp casts its golden glow about the room. My grow light shines away in my plant corner where I'm babying the last of my chrysanthemum cuttings from my plant propagation project last fall, along with some chives, parsley and basil seeds which are trying to live. The aloe vera I left in Roger's care last summer while I was away shines with gorgeous green health - thank goodness for plants that thrive on neglect. I will soon need to repot its six offspring that threaten to crowd the nest. The cyclamen that went with me to and from New Brunswick is flowering madly. The Anthurium that also lived with me in the East is happily settling into a new pot after a long run of flowering. Inside growth commences. Outside it lies in wait for the coming of spring.
Boxes sit around the room - a reminder that I started to clean out the garage. I found a number filled with family history memorabilia which beckoned me to reminisce and sidelined the purging process. Will I get back to them before the spring? I have my doubts. The paperless walls of my living room stare back at me like a colourless map of the world. Facebook reminded me with an embarrassing memory that it's been four years since I stripped the walls bare with the intent of re-papering. Wallpaper scares me. I fight back memories of having to help my mother paper the old plaster walls of the house I grew up in. Thankfully the days of water troughs and the need to turn up the ends of the paper while mom guided each strip painstakingly onto the crooked plaster walls have been replaced by slapping glue onto the wall and simply applying the dry paper. It still intimidates me. But, the paper too sits in a box on the floor and the walls still need sanding. That will replace the garage rummaging I expect, but the living room will look so nice....at last. I hope I have enough paper. I am certain I would have had more than enough to keep me busy at home over the winter, but I decided this winter would be a good time to commit to my goal of achieving my horticulture diploma. For the first time I enrolled in two courses at the same time. I'm still a bit nervous about it, although I'm now heading into week three. There is always a lot of reading with each course, but I have lots of time these days. I've never been one to back down from a challenge and I like to organize. As with any course of study, the courses are chosen for you, so not always those that you would choose for yourself. From now until early April I will be learning Business Principles in Horticulture and Integrated Pest Management. I have to admit that I had a 'been there, done that' kind of attitude going into both. I am no longer operating my home gardening business and I felt like I'd already taken the IPM course. I should know better than to be so negative because I always learn new things every time I enroll in these courses, and one just never knows where life will lead you or what the next door will be that opens to you. I am admittedly really enjoying the business course far more than I thought I would. There are a number of other students in my age bracket who are searching for their passions, just as I have spent so much of the second half of my life doing. There is a lot of inspirational giving and getting and I find myself being able to share my acquired wisdom. It is also the grandest feeling in the world to discover - hey, I have been doing it right! And that is a huge part of taking these courses for me - self-validation, a way of gauging my level of knowledge. These are my peers. And everyone is so enthusiastic and full of dreams. It's fantastic, and it's truly motivational. Always try to surround yourself with like minds and people with good light. I have not been without 'aha' moments since I've been back in Ontario. My journey continues to unfurl. My vision continues to expand. Just when I think I've completed something in my life, it surprises me by saying 'oh not yet my dear, you have much left to do', and I find my life moving towards some separate vein of what I began. There is always something to do, to achieve, to strive for, to think about, to research...and that's a very good thing, for I think the key to life has to be to keep your mind active and learning...moving forward. Not looking back. If we can get beyond dwelling on the past, finding a way to forgive what haunts us, and move forward, we can achieve whatever we set out to do. As I write these words, I am reminded that I tend to dwell on the past myself, but it is something I am trying to overcome, and then the face I see before me is Mrs. Flemer's, the Lady of Kingsbrae. She never wants to talk about what was, only of the future and moving forward. At 90, she is a true inspiration. And perhaps that is part of the reason why I was guided to this place. Before I left for the East in April 2020, my life coach, Hazel, asked me who the older woman by the sea was. I had only met Mrs. Flemer once so her image did not immediately come to mind, but when I told my husband, he immediately connected the dots for me and said, "Mrs. Flemer." Aha! It's always good to have help when one's own brain is slow to register. Hazel has been a beacon in my life and I am so grateful she came into it. From the very start of our relationship 15 years ago or so, she saw me in two houses, asking if I'd ever want a cottage. Over the years I thought it was the second house I bought after my first marriage ended, or the new house Roger and I now have representing the second house we have lived in together. But the day I negotiated my return to Kingsbrae, it became crystal clear; I was offered an apartment in the former Gardener's Cottage. Aha! My cottage. These moments continue. I learned a long time ago that you need to be patient for what is meant to be because some things are a long time coming, but they eventually do, and you remember and then it all makes sense. It's a rush!! Between Hazel and my guardian angels (and yes, I have multiple), I am blessed. I cannot think of a better word and I thank them. One thing that always comes to Hazel when we are together for our sessions is the message of me teaching, and the question of how my knees are but so far so good. I have instructed over the years - dance, guitar, gardening and pollinators. I also enjoy being taught and sharing what I learn. During our visit in November 2019, the message was quite strong. She repeated over and over 'you will teach, you will teach, you will teach'. When I was hired for Kingsbrae, the topic of challenging the Red Seal certification was mentioned. I didn't even know what that was, but of course I researched it later. The Red Seal certification exams ensure people within the trades meet the national standard of competence within their field. In Ontario my trade is Horticultural Technician. In the other participating provinces the same trade is referred to as Landscape Horticulturist (Ontario always has to be different!). All students in a recognized provincial horticulture program can enter an apprenticeship program which will prepare them to write the exam. It's a measure of excellence. It also means a company with Red Seal holders can offer mentorship programs all in an effort to strengthen the horticultural industry in Canada and develop strong company teams. The seed was planted. Because of my horticultural experience and education, I am not required to go back to school, but I do have to prove I have the requirements acquired to be able to challenge the exam and participate in any training required to round out my understanding. I had some discussion with co-workers over the summer who also have their sights set on challenging the exam. As networking goes, it leads you to the people you need in your life who will then assist you towards the next step of the ladder you are on. I connected with Landscape New Brunswick, who connected me with Landscape Ontario, and the wheels are now rolling towards the best plan of action for me to prepare me for the Red Seal. As the saying goes, one door closes and another one opens, but for me it feels like I have a bunch of doors open all at the same time, but they all share the same exit. My situation is unique to them; being an Ontario resident and working in New Brunswick. It's nurturing some creativity as to how I will best reach my goal. My learning is far from over...there will be courses and classes and placements to gain the knowledge I need in certain parts of the profession, like understanding how to build a patio. Bring it on...I'm ready...it is the right time. I feel the passion and I hear "you will teach, you will teach, you will teach," in a rhythm akin to ocean waves hitting the shore. What a feeling when things fall effortlessly into place. The new year is unfolding. So far it's kind of the same old story though. The Covid-19 pandemic still has a grip on the world. The second wave has tsunamied its way across the globe. Regional variants are appearing and jumping oceans through international travel - which in my opinion should not have been happening since the start of it all. People are getting so very tired of staying put. Sadly, Christmas was allowed to happen. Lockdown was announced to begin at midnight on Christmas Day. Our plans for any family time disappeared, yet many families still got together and all the last minute rushing to the stores and supermarkets predictably pushed the numbers of the ill towards the stars. At one point Ontario tallied close to 4,000 positives in one day. The province moved to a State of Emergency and it thankfully seems to be working. Numbers are now down to around 1,500 new cases yesterday and the SOE has been extended. Between that and the slow roll-out of the vaccine, our actions finally seem to be working. We are so desperate to get back 'normal,' but what will normal really look like? The most important thing is to simply take one day at a time and hang in there. Being somewhat of an introvert, I am actually enjoying my time inside and it isn't that much of a stretch for me, but I have Roger and Holly with me, and I am busy learning. The only drawback to being busy is that time tends to fly. In two and a half months I will be back in New Brunswick. The country is in the same state as it was a year ago, but this time I know what to expect. I'm not packing yet. There is much to be done before I go. The quarantine will still be in place and I'm not quite sure just where I will get my vaccination if I can't organize it before my departure. My courses end early April and then New Brunswick will beckon me 'come to the sea' like the pull of the tide towards, my second home. "Year's end is neither an end nor a beginning but a going on, with all the wisdom that experience can instill in us." Hal Borland The year 2020, the year that wasn't, the year of Covid-19, the year the world seemed to stop turning. Many will be kicking 2020 to the curb tonight at midnight as this year draws to a close. Bright eyes look toward 2021, searching for hope, happiness, and connection - a light at the end of a long tunnel. Aside from the many, many challenges we faced and the fact that our world is very different now and will continue to be, I look back on my own personal year as a triumph. A year which culminated for me with many accomplishments and strengthening of my own self. A year, though difficult, which still amazed us with many miracles and unfolding dreams. It also brought tears and losses as we witnessed the last chapters of life closing for family members and friends, and sadly more than there should have been had the pandemic wave not washed them away. Life and health still hang in the balance as the first vaccines begin to roll out across the country, but we still look to the New Year with hope for a return to a new normalcy and, I hope, a better one. One filled with more gratitude, more respect, and more love.
I hesitate to go on about how special and exciting my 2020 was because it simply wasn't for many. However each of our stories is different, and would be no matter how happy or sad the rest of the world is. So for that I won't feel guilty. I am fortunate and I am grateful. This time last year I had secured a position at Kingsbrae Garden and was excitedly arranging the steps I needed to take to prepare for the physical journey as well as the emotional one. The virus had reared its ugly head in Wuhan, China but we being so wrapped up in our preparations for Christmas were not really aware of what was happening or the explosion upon the horizon. We personally had a wonderful Christmas in 2019, with all the family visiting here across a number of days. There had been a 'bug' circulating in the community, a rather nasty virus. Three of our family were just getting over it at Christmas and it was making its way around the office at work rather noticeably. People don't stay at home when they should, and I admit I'm guilty of that too, especially when you think it's just a cold. We all have bills to pay and bellies to fill. I caught whatever it was, or rather it caught me, and I spent a good week or more on the couch, away from Roger, with a headache, a temperature, a copiously runny nose, body aches and chills, and a terrible cough. All I wanted to do was sleep. Had we realized more about Covid at the time I would certainly have been swabbed. The coughing was the worst of it and I truly had to fight the mucus to breathe. At one stage I could feel it deepening, working its way down into my chest, and I knew I couldn't let that happen. So I coughed harder and frequently to loosen it out of my airway. I had had my flu shot, though I know that it's not a 100 percent shield, but I had not fallen this ill for a very long time. After about 10 to 14 days I recovered, and miraculously Roger did not contract it, which was very surprising given all the hacking and sputtering that had occurred. I had told him not to touch my garbage can nor share my towels. I was so glad he remained well. It travelled around the office and everyone in the room eventually had some degree of the same thing. Then the news of Covid hit the world. Was it a coincidence a potent virus was spreading in our community at that time as well? I have often wondered what an antibody test would have shown for me at that time. The months of January to April in 2020 were full of uncertainty for me. I knew in my heart that my journey was about to take me where I was supposed to be, yet doubt nagged in the back of my mind the rest of the winter and into the spring. I did not know if I was actually going to make my sojourn until the very last minute, but I prepared for it just the same. And then, I found myself pulling out of my driveway, truck loaded with all I needed, leaving behind my man, my pup, my house, my garden, my family, tears blurring my vision. My plans included having Roger join me once I had settled into the rhythm of my East Coast life. I couldn't have imagined that that was not to be part of my journey. Roger was a very important part of it, we having married that September. It was my intention that he be with me. But, we are all on our own separate journeys, no matter how much we are together, and while his journey and mine have moved quite parallel to each other's, the paces were changing at this point. We don't have control of our paths, not if we are really trusting the pulls and pushes of the spiritual navigation system deep within each of us. And so, with six months between us, we walked alone, yet together. During that time I could only focus on adjusting to my independence. I had a garden to look after. I was getting to know people who would become my extended family. I was learning so much more about life. How is it, at 57, I am still learning? I absolutely love it. My mind is so active, it might as well be learning instead of worrying and stressing. I think now that, for all these years when I struggled with internal conflicts. that my brain was really just screaming at me, trying to wake me up to the fact that I needed to keep learning, challenging myself, and make my dreams come true. The day I decided 'maybe I could garden for other people' was the most important pivotal point in my life. We have many pivots and climaxes from birth to death, but this one resounded loudly and has echoed continuously since the day I advertised for clients. The need I felt to challenge my knowledge by enrolling in a horticultural program was the shake I needed. I did not know where it was taking me, only that it made perfect sense. That was the seed and it has waited for the perfect conditions for it to grow. Do you know that the seeds of some plant species can lie dormant for 50 or more years waiting to be unearthed where the sunshine warms them and coaxes them to life? Humans aren't very different really. We too need to push our way through the brambles of our past and wait for the sun to find us so that we may grow. And when we grow, so does wisdom, understanding, and contentment. Our brains are built to learn and keep learning. We are meant to find our purpose and share our knowledge. I always marvel at the young men and women who pop up out of the blue with such intelligence and apparent maturity of thought. I envy them that they seem to have figured it out early in their lives and that they are lucky they don't have to sort it all out over such a long time. Again, we are all on different paths and even though they seem to have it all going for them, that path can turn, on a dime. I think I'm at the age where I'm better 'equipped' for the ride. For the past two months since returning home to Ontario, I've been addressing life and health issues, catching up on dental appointments, blood work and cancer screening. I am one of those lucky individuals with a family history of colon cancer as well as heart disease and, although I'd like to deny it, within the age group now when these nasties tend to make themselves known. I had been slightly overdue for my surveillance procedure but had the foresight to ensure I had an appointment to come back to in the fall when gardening was finished. Thankfully I got my procedure done before Covid gained a stronger foot-hold in the province and the pre-cancerous polyps that had been lurking in my gut could be removed. I had been on my way to bowel cancer. This type of news wakes you up a bit but I wasn't really surprised. Always listen to your intuition for I had a sense something was amiss. I have many things left to do in my life, and dying is not at the top of the list. I've also been watching my blood cholesterol and have taken my diet by the reins and lowered my levels successfully, though both of these issues will be ongoing and changes need to be permanent. While I hibernate for the winter I have been anything but dormant. I've become a little chef in my own kitchen, enjoying having the time to cook from scratch, test healthy recipes, and I've even treated myself to some new kitchen utensils. All I wanted for Christmas was an enamel-coated Dutch oven, highly influenced by the multitude of cooking shows I've been watching that have replaced the gardening programs momentarily for the winter. Thank you Mary Berry, Jamie Oliver and Anna Olson. Thank you Great British Bake-Off. I see a new season of the Great Canadian Bake-Off is scheduled to start soon. Yay! So Roger gifted me what I asked for for Christmas and we have been eating well, introducing more fish and whole grains into our diet, as well as experimenting with more vegetarian options. Omega-3 has become a daily additive and we are both trying to drink more water. Exercise is the most difficult for me through the winter months. When I'm gardening, the fact that I'm exercising is hidden by my passion for it. I like exercise that doesn't feel like exercise. As 2020 passes into 2021, my thoughts will once again turn to gardening and 'our' return to New Brunswick, but for the time-being I simply want to be home. After today I will de-Christmas the house. The tree will be disassembled. I will do a thorough cleaning as if to wash away the old and turn to a fresh page for the next chapter, the next leg of the journey I'm on. I will tend my indoor plants; a pot of aloe veras which need separating, a fern and a palm I will have to find caretakers for come April. My plant companions which went to New Brunswick with me are thriving - my year-old cyclamen is flowering profusely and my Anthurium happier after moving to its new pot. The long-term survivors (8/15) of my geranium cutting project from my plant propagation course sit dormant in the window awaiting longer days and warmer sunshine (I can't bear to compost them). I was pleased I'd had opportunity to tidy the garden leaving less to do in a limited timeframe in April. With luck I will get my living room wallpapered and make time to sort through some areas in the house that need a purge. All this while I also prepare to complete two university courses online in my personal goal of achieving my horticultural diploma. Yep, I've got way too much I want to do. But I wouldn't have it any other way. Late in the fall and after a snowfall, I had noticed one of my Hellebores had thrown up flower heads in the garden and was blooming happily until the snow came and completely covered it. I feel like that Hellebore, snugly tucked into my warm house to wait out the winter but growing actively out of sight. I think we are both happy and content, sleeping in the snow, planning for spring and the new adventures that await. Bring on 2021. Happy New Year to you all. May it be a happier and healthier one for all. When I used to have a long daily commute to work I would often take the same route and pass the same properties and businesses. I remember one morning I took extra notice of a sign for a home-based paving company. There was nothing unusual about it. It advertised all the different ways he could treat your driveway. The thing that struck me as funny was the fact that his own driveway was gravel. I remember laughing and thinking that that probably wasn't very good advertising...to sell asphalt to someone when the contractor didn't seem to believe in it himself. Another perspective however would be to think that he's just so busy with work that he hasn't had time to pave his own lane. Then again, perhaps he doesn't have enough work to be able to afford the splurge for his personal property. When I ran my own gardening business, it was important for me to keep my own garden looking as good as I possibly could. It was in fact my business card. If I was advertising to garden for others, my own garden should walk the talk. Periods of drought were particularly labour intensive because I simply could not get away without watering my wilting plants, even though my better judgement was to let nature look after herself. I am well aware of the logistics of watering versus not watering and how best to do this, but I also couldn't let my property look bad while selling myself as a gardener.
When we bought our current home it came accessorized by a beautiful English style garden. I've expanded its dimensions, added and removed plants, and its maintenance has been fairly easy. It generally only needs to be edged once a season. I aerated and seeded our tiny lawn in the spring converting the grass to clover for ease of maintenance and to produce a healthier lawn which supports biodiversity within my yard. I happily and mindlessly puttered around after work and weekends to keep on top of the deadheading and weeding and I spent a lot of time just watching my garden grow. I had been pulling back on the fall cleanup, leaving the season's vegetation to die back naturally, returning nutrients to the soil, and reducing the amount of cutback I performed in order to leave some seed heads for the birds and habitat for overwintering insects. My garden is self-sufficient for the most-part. The majority of my weeding energy is spent removing encroaching grass, sun spurge, sow thistle and the odd dandelion that escapes discovery. Otherwise, the plants grow closely together in true English style and I allow plants to self-seed to a certain extent so weeds don't have as much of a foot-hold in the soil. I haven't taken on any major projects but I have lots of ideas and plans in my head. Now that I have been and will be away from my garden for entire growing seasons, I am faced with some gardening challenges. Chiefly because of the situation Covid presented to us in 2020, my husband wasn't able to join me in New Brunswick. The difficulty lie with the need to quarantine for 14 days. As such he remained at home and he threatened to weed the garden for me. My instructions were clearly to send me a photograph before touching anything! I was confident he could identify a dandelion and I described what sow thistle looked like. He should have been able to tell what was or wasn't supposed to be there, however I did have some native plants in the garden which would be weeds to some and I was to be consulted before anything was pulled. Due to the circumstances I had not asked anyone to come and look after the garden, which would be difficult no matter what else was going on in the world because quite simply, it's really difficult to find a gardener! As the month of May progressed into June I received pictures of my beautifully blooming plants back home. The pictures eased my sense of home-sickness and made me smile. There was never any mention of weeds. Further into July the pictures dwindled and then stopped. That made me suspicious. The one thing I was concerned about was seedlings from the maples on our property. We have four, and two are Norway maples which are quite prolific and whose seedlings must be removed every year. I felt my husband should be able to identify those once they grew a bit, They would be relatively easy to pull out so long as they were. I have to say when I returned I only found a couple maples growing secretively which I yanked out mercilessly, so my husband had effectively handled the annual Norwegian invasion. He managed to maintain the population of sow thistle and I was impressed with how well the garden actually had held its own. The biggest issue was grass in areas I knew already existed. Down the road I will have to completely dig out a few sections so the grass can be removed more completely and routine edging does help to control it. So all in all, he did okay. I didn't expect my garden to be as pristine as it might have been if I were at home. I was prepared for that. One of the few plants I felt a need to check on when I returned was my rhubarb patch. I suggested that he keep an eye on it and harvest some should he choose to make something with it. Rhubarb likes to be pulled. I believe it's good for the plant. I described to him the need to remove the flower heads, which generally develop fairly early on in the season, in order to keep the patch producing. A few had appeared and I gave instructions to remove them immediately. One day he had been keeping the grandchildren and he proudly sent me pictures of their harvest of rhubarb and told me about the pies he planned to make. I looked at the pile of stalks and I stated "Did you leave any in the garden? That looks like a lot of rhubarb. You shouldn't cut them all at the same time as it shocks the plant and you risk losing the patch." Silence. You know the feeling you get when you know you know what's happened but are afraid to ask? Yep. He had cut all the stalks from my little patch. So, the jury is still out on the vigour of the crop for next year, but I noticed some leaves had grown back during fall clean-up. Most likely it will recover. For the next few years while I concentrate on working in a New Brunswick garden, mine at home simply has to hold its own. With luck I will have time before and after my departure and return at the early beginning and absolute end of the gardening season to perform the bare minimum of maintenance so that it doesn't look too neglected. This past November was an up and down roller coaster of weather in my part of Ontario. The day after I arrived back home, as forecast, it snowed. But then we had some beautiful warm temperatures early in the month. A reprieve. A sign for me to get myself in motion. The gardening gods had granted me the time I hoped for to go through my garden, cut back all the old stems, find those sneaky weeds that dwell amongst the perennials, and grab the grass which glowed green through the rough brown of the newly dormant. I pulled English ivy off the wall at the front of the house as I do every fall. I assessed the growth of the Virginia creeper that grows on the south wall and which usually gets a full cutback every second season to keep it in check. Roger had done a good job pruning the Siberian peashrub hedge which I had given a severe trim the summer before. I pruned some shrubs perhaps a little later than is ideal, and left others I know I can prune late March or early April before I plan to leave again. At the same time in the spring, fingers crossed, I will be able to edge the beds to hold them for the new year. I know the Centaurea are spreading. I know the Spanish bluebells are as well. Rudbeckia and Obedient plant are finding new positions in the garden. Pearly everlasting and false asters are thriving. Japanese anemone are moving their way down the border. But generally...my garden thrived this year with very little care. That's really the goal of any garden...to get it to a point where it is self-supporting, where you have to spend less time weeding and more time enjoying the plants. But mine is also not a manicured garden and I am okay with that. I spend much time making sure the gardens of others are as perfect as I can make them, that I meet their standards of how they see their gardens, that each plant has its place and that strays are moved or removed. So when it comes to spending time in my own garden, I like to step back and let it be. I like to let go of the regimentation of so many gardens. I like plants to find their place for I believe they do best where they choose to grow, and not always where we think they will. When perennials are allowed to spread freely, there is so little need to mulch for they cover the ground on their own and weeds struggle. Less removal of plant material means less need to fertilize for the old will decay and feed the new. So, when I think of the man with the paving company who hasn't paved his own driveway, I understand that perhaps it's simply stepping away from the expectations of others and allowing oneself to breathe and that we really cannot judge others based on what we observe. When I step away from proper gardens back into my own, I leave behind structure and presumption. I forget about form and rigidness. I can simply be in my garden, enjoy the wildness of it and feel content. My garden doesn't have to be perfect to anyone but this gardener. |
AuthorJennifer Williamson, Gardener, Artist, Writer Archives
December 2022
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