Just a little divergence from the norm, dear reader, less of the humorous and more of the thoughtful, if not thought provoking. I was told that gardening makes you philosophical, I’ve often told you that and it remains ever true. Have no fear that if you pick up a spade you’ll start to question morality and whenever the dirt clings to your boots you’ll ponder the infinite mysteries of the universe. It’s more of a simple, yet different view, a lens that slips over your eyes. It’s not to say I understand it all that fully yet, if I ever will, I just let it wash over me. In those quiet times, when the seeds are down, a few starting, another few dying, or in the case of my carrots: Mysteriously disappearing, a feeling pervades, one removed from the common conflagration of concatenations that engulf us everyday without our noticing it. I suppose it’s simple nature, in all its splendour. Undiluted by a reason to be, it simply is, unfettered by a need to prove itself to anyone anything. It gives you a different perspective on your life, makes you question a lot of things you’d never have thought of, let alone question. I don’t have the words to express it and it’s wonderful to be able to admit to that. I’m not afraid of not knowing something, I relish the opportunity to learn and nature is teaching me plenty.
I think this year has really cemented the idea that nature is natural. Try as hard as you can to organise it, to quantify it into simple segments and a weed will pop up in your carefully organised ideas and throw them into disarray. Try to follow exact instructions and you’ll still risk failure. Listen to the earth, dear reader. Look to the skies and see what weather is coming, forget reports, feel the thunder coming on your skin, the cool air signalling rain. It sounds profound, but all it really is is a man in a dirty hoodie looking, really looking and realising the answers are right there in front of him. I’m learning to work with nature. I cut the weeds gently, taking care to protect the plants, I feed the grass even though I care little for it. I even let the little beneficial bugs be on their way. It’s all connected. A part of me, the industrious, impatiently, ignorant part wants success, wants a set formula to rule over all. I think the wind mocks me as it blows through the trees, I’m learning to work with it, to fight it on it’s own terms. The weeds will rise, I will be here to cut them down, but the flowers, the vegetables will also grow and I will be there to nurture them to maturity and to cherish the simple journey. It comes in little bursts, this peaceful feeling, this connection to something greater. It often fades and I forget, then it returns to remind me it never left, I just turned away from it. Who know what I’m talking about really, dear reader, let’s just look at he photos and imagine how it’ll all fare in the coming year, shall we?
The first batch of beetroot haven’t started, nor did the old parsnip seeds. So new beetroot seeds are now sowed under cheap plastic tumblers, which are buried slightly to stop them toppling and they’re already gathering heat as you can see.