It’s not just the mental shift from gardening to guardianing (thanks to Mary Reynolds for that beautiful phrase), but a certain kind of loosening inside me.
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“Do you feel all zen when you get to the middle?” my son asked, as we walked the labyrinth together this morning.
Let me clarify what it means when he and I walk the labyrinth together. Forget a meditative walk. This is a race.
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I’ve stopped thinking about our property solely as something to manage and maintain. I think less about how we might use the land and more about what would be useful for the land.
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As with learning most new things, the hardest part was at the start. It takes a while to learn the language of anything new.
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When the wind blows, grass and flowerheads undulate like waves on the sea. The whole thing has a lumpy appearance. I am a giant marching over hills and valleys in my oversized boots…
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