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In the spirit of winter reflection, and for all of you who have been renewed or restored by gardening, here’s a meditation on how plants helped one person with surviving trauma.
You might wonder what eight lesions on a CAT scan have to do with gardening. The connection wasn’t apparent to me for years. Now I realize that gardening gives me a way to deal with trauma. The earth and its green growing plants take good care of me. It was gardens that silently stood by and helped me as I dealt with the numbing facts of my twin Jeanette’s diagnosis: multiple sclerosis. When the doctor pointed to the destructive white stars dotting the x-ray images of my sister’s brain, I was too numb to weep.
Meanwhile, the Daphne odora outside our back door began to show the first pale petals of its fragrant flowers. Later, I spied a patch of striped crocus poking their faces through the soil. The sight of a small, gray slug trailing uncertainly across my deck caught my attention. When slugs appear, the cold weather has shifted. The slug that woke me deserves to be blessed. Move over, humble creature, suddenly there was work to do.
That year, I sawed down by hand five huge English laurels encroaching our west-facing bedroom window. They blocked out any sunlight that might enter our home. I dug the trunks and roots out. Gone! Then I started on the weeds. Surely there were more to pull. A bigger project? Suddenly, there just wasn’t enough to do in our small suburban garden.
A neighbor often complained about the cherry tree that hid her front door. I asked her, did it still bug her? Yes. So I chopped at it like a demon. She was elated. My husband came by with the ’57 Chevy and pulled out the remaining stump and roots with a rope. Could I peek in the back yard, she asked? Mmm. Maybe a few evergreens to disguise the chain-link fence? She happily agreed with my suggestions and purchased some hardy Emerald arborvitae. I dug the deep holes, wheeled over compost, and sweated my sorrows out.
I turned my attention to her neglected roses, pruning out dead canes. And
they were getting no sun. So another week went by as I transplanted her roses
to the south side.
During this time, Jeanette and I kept up our Friday night movies. On her good
days we’d also catch a Vietnamese dinner in the University District. A
really great night would include perusing second-hand books afterwards. On her
hard days, we’d keep it simple, or rent a video. My brave sis. Her determination
kept me going.
My own energy multiplied as I helped with renovations at a local office where I free lance. Transformation! Soon there was weed-screen and pebble gravel, a path, drought-resistant rosemary plants, a recycled plastic lumber picnic table, a small birdbath and feeder. Transformation! . Was I beside myself, creating a simple garden at an office where I wasn’t staff? It takes a gardener to get it. So I hooked up with fellow gardeners in the Washington State University Master Gardener’s program! Equally crazy peers! Who else will venture out in PJ’s with a spouse holding up a flashlight to catch the elusive root weevils attacking the innocent bergenia?
No sooner had I finished that garden than my Mom called, talking about the new home she and Dad are building for Jeanette. I flew home and worked side by side with my Mom at Jeanette’s home, planting trees and shrubs and flowers.. Indomitable Shasta daisies will show their bright faces each year (they are Jeanette’s favorite). Lee helped Dad pour cement for a pretty circular patio, so Jeanette can view the nearby stream easily under her gorgeous trees.
This summer Jeanette and her dearest friend Cindy came for our July 4th party and we played croquet on the front lawn. We ate Jeanette’s impossible-to-duplicate potato salad. The impatiens, grasses, pansies, bees, roses, and birds in the crimson Norway maple observed us and I felt fortunate. Thank heavens for the earth’s restorative, healing graces. Just as I love the earth, it loves me back.
Hortsense: Managing plant problems with Integrated Pest Management
