One of the realities of life and gardens is that neither is fixed, permanent, or truly possessed. It’s easy to feel that our life (or home or garden) is our own, but that feeling isn’t the truth. Sooner or later, it is necessary that these attachments are severed.
The News
The main focus of this blog, the garden, has dramatically changed shape since October 31, when we learned that our lease would not be renewed in December. This news was not a surprise, but it was uncomfortable. As a perennial renter, I realize how lucky we were to stay in the same place for eight years AND have the autonomy to dig up the yard and make it into a not-perfectly-landscaped landscape. One can grow a lot in that amount of time, and leaving the little ecosystem would be like abandoning a safe haven.
I even felt a little guilty, like the garden needed me to take care of it. It had started a life of its own, with plants volunteering each season and fauna finding food and shelter in the rows. It’s probably going to be bulldozed. How could I leave it to such a fate? What will I write about if there’s no garden? How will I spend my time and how will this change the way we eat?
The Grief
I know. Get yourself together, girl! We’re were just moving. And, I just began a new job that will make maintaining such a large space difficult. But, nevertheless, I grieved that this space would no longer be my space, my playground, my canvas.
This was where I grieved for my grandmother, and then Bailey, and then my grandfather. This is where Bailey lounged with me and where I saw him eat dirt, and understood that he was dying. This is where I came when I lost my job and where I came after we cleaned out the houses of our dead. This is where I came when the world was too loud. This was the ground that absorbed all my failures and taught me how important death is to life and life is to death and how important failing is to living and living is to failing and how all those things are the same. This is where I felt myself. This is where I felt like I had something to contribute. And now, I would leave it. Who was I without this space?
The Regrouping
But, time passed (a day or two), and the grief settled to allow for a slightly less dramatic path forward than throwing my hands in the air and wailing at the sky: a container garden. Containers are portable, like renters. And so, my attention shifted from the loss of the garden to establishing a new, portable, rent-friendly garden.
Since we only had about 30 more days of guaranteed access to the garden, I immediately began to take cuttings of the perennial herbs: thyme, lavender, Mexican Marigold, sage, and oregano. When we learned we were moving, I’d already started some broccolinis, and so I planted them in 5-gallon buckets that we use to haul and store compost.
It didn’t take long until I’d run out of containers, so I began to make containers out of all of the things. One of my regular Hippie Christmas gifts from Mister includes feed buckets from a cattle operation in Elgin. These probably hold about twenty gallons of dirt and so make excellent planters.
Now I had to decide what to plant in the containers. With the limited space, there were some hard decisions to make, and some hard realities to face (Sorry, broccoli, you’re too slow and too big, maybe next year?). I decided to follow the square-foot-gardening spacing guidelines and plant the foods most suited for containers and that make the biggest contribution to our household meals. This meant alliums, salad greens, radishes, and annual herbs.
The Rebuilding
I moved through the motions of filling and planting and dressing the baby plants with the slow motions of melancholy. The buckets looked haphazard in their little nook in the garden. And, the plants all looked so fragile, and so unlikely to thrive in such a confined space. But, everyday the plants looked a little stronger, and that steady undercurrent of excitement that always comes with planting became stronger shook its heavy atmosphere of grief.
This container thing could work!
By the time we moved, the containers held ginger, thyme, lavender, parsley, butterhead lettuce, romaine lettuce, two types of lacinato kale, kohlrabi, broccoli raab, spinach, dill, garlic, leeks, lemongrass, garlic chives, multiplying onions, Thai lime, Meyer Lemon, fennel, and key lime. So, there it is. The garden, in it much reduced, but still productive state.
The New Season
I can’t say that this container garden captivates me as the garden I’ve grown with in these last 8 years. But, love never takes the same shape twice.
So, here’s to a new season. I wonder what will grow.
shirley
i couldn’t imagine leaving that perfect triangle area of colorful growth. after all the work, to just walk away, was unreal. it wasn’t hidden behind a house, it was front n center for everyone to enjoy. u did have a lot of stuff that i had never heard of, therefore, it was a learning experience. i have faith ur next garden will be just as enjoyable. love u, n like a three-yr-old, i truly liked the pictures! xo
Pat
I love your thoughts about change and the journey! 💕