Adulthood has turned me into an avid gardener. I took for granted my mom’s green thumb when I was a kid, and could not appreciate the work she put into her garden patch in our back yard in Des Plaines. I had to learn the long way.
When I was a new nurse, one of the first plants I remember tending was a Celosia. A pretty, whispy flower that reminds me of a Treffula tree from the imaginary world of Dr. Seuss. I grew it in a planter on my apartment balcony, and remember petting it and appreciating its vibrant colors. I felt very accomplished when it was still alive after a few weeks.
I also remember the first plant I put into the ground at my own home a few years later. It was a butternut squash plant. I picked a spot in the grass and dug a hole. As it grew and spiraled outward, taking over its part of the yard, I watched the magic of its unfurling golden flowers and twirly tendrils reaching in all directions. It reminded me of Cinderella’s magic pumpkin carriage. Then the flowers becoming fruit. WHAT??!! I grew FOOD!! The fruit became an edible butternut squash which I roasted and fed to my baby daughter. Magic.
Last fall I let our Halloween pumpkins turn to mush in our yard. Here they are now:
Gardening has been a learning experience about myself and the planet that supports life all around me. The varying needs of seeds in different climates and seasons. The moisture preferences of roots and leaves. Monitoring for pests and noting when to take action, and when to just observe. Different amounts of light and shade.
People are more like plants than I’d previously considered. I’m grateful to have an ever-increasing understanding, patience, and appreciation for our differences and similarities.
Big Agriculture growing techniques promote monoculture farms — sterile rows of one type of plant, sprayed with chemicals to kill pests and treated like an assembly line of food manufactured by the soil. This is where we grow corn. ONLY corn. And over there, miles away, is ONLY soybeans. If you’re not THIS crop, then STAY OUT. “You can’t sit here”.
It doesn’t feel right. An isolated, lonely existence. Plants aren’t meant to live in sterile, monocrop rows of only one genetically-modified version of their species.
We need variety.
Our ecosystems thrive on diversity.
In her book Braiding Sweetgrass, Robin Wall Kimmerer describes the mutual thriving that occurs when a variety of plants grow in close quarters. There’s a concept called Three Sister’s Gardening that poetically describes the relationship between corn, squash, and beans. Kimmerer explains the science of the exchange of nutrients, and how each plant benefits from the others but nobody takes more than they need.
Mutual reciprocity.
This is what I’m striving for in my life. Balance between what I take from the earth to support myself and my family — and what I give in service by providing space for plants to grow, minimize my footprint more than before, and speak/act in ways that influence others to do the same. It’s small changes. Like reshaping lifelong habits (quitting smoking, beginning exercising, reducing sodium intake, eliminating single-use plastic, etc.) — improving my relationship with the Earth is a process. I’m continually growing. A constant work-in-progress.
It’s 2023, and I have a garden for the first time in 3 years. It’s glorious. I notice the little communities living on and within my garden. I go outside and am surrounded by friends. Fragrant, generous, effervescent, welcoming friends.
Friends & Family
Let me introduce you: Lettuce, sugar snap peas, sunflowers, snapdragons, basil, marigold, aster, elderberry, cucumber, carrot, dahlia, zinnia, coral bell pepper, purple tomatillo, rosemary (hopefully), savory, bunching onion, broccoli, milkweed, potato, Cherokee Trail of Tears black bean, cilantro, lavender, pumpkin, sage, strawberry, honeysuckle, lilac… Fireflies, ladybugs, aphids, monarchs, chamomile, calendula, white butterflies, moths, ants, honeybees, wasps, bumblebees, tomato bugs(?), and a bunch of others I wonder what we humans have named.
This is all to say: I’m growing medicine. Spiritual medicine. From seed. To feed. To seed.
This is the feeling I hope to bottle up, distill into a tincture, and sublimate.
Give what you can; Take what you need.
Love,
Jessie