As a gardener, Spring is an especially significant time in my year. It is when I trim my roses, sheer the hedges, shape the trees, and cultivate the soil. It is my time to rediscover mother earth and give praise to the bounty only she can produce out of the solemn desolate landscape of death.
I hold no shame that I do not wear gloves. My hands go deep into the ground, aerating the dark brown gold with my fingers. It is only when I can no longer force my way through do I succumb to the metal tools that sit by my side. The soil deeply embeds its tiny particles into my cuticles hiding no shame at my work. How else am I to discover the connection of my life force? I inhale the richness of the musty leaves, shredded bark, and decaying matter as if God’s own perfume. The jasmine are only the first of the many musky oil laden scents that waft through the air upon dusk and dawn, followed by citrus blossoms that promise luscious fruit to come. The hydrangea begin their new leafing, while the roses hint at the blooms the will rise above their thorned necks. As if to brag, the daisies bloom more and more each day, showing off the simplicity of willpower, their waves of color never-ending. Only the geranium can keep up! Bunny-battered grass thickens, reminding me that the color of green is to be awed as much as the abundance of the pink flowers of Hawthorne that light up the hills. Standing to attention, the calla lilies are not to be missed, growing out of nothing, stoic among the lush green foliate that supports their delicate heads of angelic white. The daffodils pop up throughout, happily sharing their yellow faces among late bloomer, proud to be the first to welcome Spring.
When in my garden, my mind is no longer burdened by the mundane. I do not worry about the world at large. I have a inner peace that supersedes anything that would disrupt the harmony. The birds jettison from tree to tree, gathering their bits to warm their nests. The hummingbirds quickly flitter near my head to remind me that I am no less important than they. Once in awhile a butterfly will flaps its wings as if winking to me.The bees do not sting when I reach into the bushes and top the matted mess. For when a gardner, you are among the working, bringing the balance of continuing energy. All of nature has respect for one who works with love in their heart, purpose in their work, and respect for the balance.
It is Spring. As one who mightily toils with nature, I have a great respect for this life force that surrounds me. This new beginning is a reminder of the cycle of life: birth, growth, death, and the happiness and hardship that is cultivated in between. Nothing is forever, and yet life itself goes on, to something new and amazing as it continues. Look for it. Dig your hands deeply in and experience it. Don’t be afraid to get dirty. But most of all, enjoy the ever changing landscape as it comes. Spring always follows the depths of winter’s harshness: life and renewal just under the iced over ground. There is a beauty and harmony among the embattlement of life. As with all, there is a place of renewal and joy, if you open your senses to the life just under your feet.