....a birth and a death

Yogis,
On a rainy day in May two women showed me which of the community garden spaces that run along our town’s main road would fall under my purview. You may remember my post where I spoke of the insistence of two particular unwanted weeds. Or one where I shared my vision for transforming the area into both a feast for the eyes and a home to our neighborhood bees and butterflies.

A beginning. A birth…..

Since then I have planted, weeded, trimmed, sweated, and watered weekly. All while falling in love. On morning runs I stopped to visit. Pictures taken, friends visited and the oregano I grew there graced many of my salads.

This past Sunday I even went to the nursery and found another perennial to plant in preparation for winter with a vision toward spring. Tuesday morning at 6 am I ran by and waved. Four hours later it was all gone…….

A friend called me in a panic. A county truck was there and men in vests were cutting everything down to the dirt. They then packed up and left.  A miscommunication between a citizen and the county.

An ending. A death……

As I mourned, I thought back over the fleeting five months the garden and I shared and the many lessons it gifted me. Here are two.

Importance of words – I run by and zinnia faces smile at me, even in the dark. ‘You guys look beautiful!’ I shout. And then I catch myself. Guys???  Calling flowers, which are one of the most exquisite feminine aspects of nature, guys? 
I know better. I have been taught better. Guys has become a figure of speech to cover men and women, like man was chosen as the inclusive word for humans. I can assure you a man decided that.
Woman on the other hand includes both the womb and the man, which last time I checked were both required.
Words matter, a truth becoming clearer than ever this year. Because ‘we always said it’ does not count. ‘I don’t mean anything by it’ doesn’t excuse it. I am woman, goddess, feminine, shakti. I stand in that power and must mindfully use words that empower me and women of every color, size, nationality, and religion. And flowers, of course. Thank you, garden!

Kindness – The garden was always giving. Every visit provided a joy. The volunteer marigold that showed up, transforming into a stunning bush swathed with vivid red blooms. The zinnias in bud vases that I scattered throughout the house made me smile. 

The more I received the more I was spurred to give. Plastic cups filled with blooms which I occasionally set on the elderly women’s porch across the path. Asking children passing by if they would like a flower and watching their eyes widen as I got the scissors and asked what color they wanted. Sharing gardening tips with those who stopped to see what I was doing.
In return I was then given more. ‘Beautiful flowers!’ yells a biker. ‘Thank you for doing this’ I hear from a passing car. ‘My son always wants me to stop the stroller here so he can look at the flowers’, a young mom shares.
Gardens teach kindness.  Thank you, garden!

Everything has a birth and a death, but it isn’t always easy.

Thank you garden,
SARAH