What you experience instead is the fizzing aliveness of plants and animals, curiosity at how things naturally unfold, and magical combinations that we could never imagine nor contrive.
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We miss so much beauty when fixated on the weeds, seeing only what we wish was not there.
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It was driven by this idea of garden perfection, by fantasies of a garden that matched those I saw in magazines. The whole thing was actually driving me mad.
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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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