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I am a happy gardener. Some lovely primroses popped up under the trio of lilac bushes at the back of the yard this first spring in our new old house. So, we casually sauntered out there to liberate them from the early spring weeds. One discovery led to another and with a healthy bit of weeding, an old garden with several tenacious perennials emerged. The lawn is awash with violets (and dandelions) and a very hearty patch of lilies of the valley and more violets have surfaced under the gingko tree. I knew about the peonies and rhubarb and was looking forward to the very long row of daffodils near the fence. I went out to pick some daffs thinking on my way that I would have to add some of the very lovely little narcissus that my grandmother used to grow. To my great surprise, tucked behind those arms full of daffodils is a thick row of the very flowers I had been planning to add! It was like a very sweet hello from my grandma.
I can’t help but wonder about the gardener who proceeded me. Was it the woman who local folks say loved to wear purple or her husband, the engineer? Perhaps it was even the last of the original farming family who built and lived here for three generations. There are ways that I feel ownership of this land and its buildings, but in a very real sense I am much more the steward of the place. It’s hard to feel as if one owns the land. It’s strange to look at the trees and think that they belong to me. True, I could choose to cut them down but I did not plant them and may not outlive most of them.
The other wonderful surprise of our new home is the variety of birds that live around us. I remember telling folks that one reason I wanted to move out of the city was a chance to grow more things and see more birds. I guess I didn’t realize till now just how profoundly true that was. Much of my happiness and wealth are measured this spring in orioles, indigo buntings, primroses and columbines. We have observed 45 species of birds out our windows and the spring arrivals have not finished coming. I have been like an exiled person reunited with old, old friends-jumping from window to window field glasses in hand impatient for the last of the rain to stop. It had been years since I had seen either an oriole or a bunting. Like many city or town dwellers, I had begun to think that one only got to see most birds while hiking or in a park or something. So few types of birds live in town. I can’t help but think just how much we loose by paving over the world. I didn’t even realize how insidious the acceptance of that loss can occur. A person goes about their day not really noticing what they are not seeing. Being mindful of ones surroundings gives one a sense of wonder, of belonging, of wealth.
And people. Now there’s a topic. Reminds me of my grandmother’s response when someone showed her a less than beautiful child. She would say “Now, there’s a baby!” with a big smile on her face. Don’t misunderstand. She valued “less than beautiful children” just as much but chose not to lie about how they looked.
I have had such a warm welcome in my new town. And yet, at the first instance of a cold shoulder from a woman, I reacted like a middle school child who just moved to a new school. Thankfully, unlike most middle school child, after all these years, I have developed an effective way to cope with those insecurities. I reached out to those who love me and then let in what they gave me. I also was open to gifts from new acquaintances who could counter Cold Shoulder’s attitude. The new ‘friendlies’ were able put it in perspective with their very ability to know just by her manner who had been cold (even though I was very careful not to give any identifying characteristics other than her type of disapproval). So, as I enter this new garden of friendships, I will try to take joy in all of the positive people who live here and not zero in on those who will not like me. The thought that there were always going to be people who don’t like me used to be a very disquieting idea.
My daughter was disappointed that at my age I was still susceptible to that kind of insecurity. She was looking forward to not feeling that way. But I think one never outgrows such emotional responses. We all want to be liked. The reassurance I could give her was in the fact that within an hour of the onset of that insecurity, I was shedding tears of joy at the wonderful gifts of love given to me.
Life truly is what we make of it. That the people in my household are excited by nesting wrens and orioles is a joy in and of itself. The fact that we share our love of gardening and of caring for our new old house helps make life what it is here. Friends, new and old, who know and understand what really matters, make such a wonderful difference. What a blessing it is to know that one is blessed!
Be Well, let in a loving gift and be well blessed,
Cheryl Caister |
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