Connections (part 1)
An exploration of Gardens and the connections that lie therein.
Where did my connection to soil come from? I spent most of my childhood washing it off (or my mum washing it off me!). It was a thing to be both embraced; in a “mud pie, carefree, rolling in the dirt, smudged face”, kind of way … and to be avoided; in a “what have you been doing, they were clean on this morning!”, kind of way. In a similar way, the word “gardening” was not part of my childhood/adolescent vocabulary. Indeed, gardening was a word I associated with those approaching death … literally! In the 1960’s north-west of England, I saw the shadow of imminent departure in the faces of those ancient, grizzled, grey haired shuffling old men emerging from the local allotments, it was the 1960’s and I rarely saw any women on the plots. Those grizzled old men wending their way back home, or maybe for an early pint or two, with what seemed to be a “contented” look on their faces … what was that all about?!
My first 18yrs were spent in a very small 3-bedroom house in Warrington (Mum, Dad, older brother, and two younger sisters). The garden (20ft x 15ft) was dominated by lawn (18ft x 13ft); it was a postage stamp stuck to an envelope on which the words “Not interested in gardening” were scrawled. No! … gardening was not on my radar. Nor was it on my parent’s radar … or so I thought. It wasn’t until my parents were in their 70’s and had moved to a bungalow with a small but decent sized garden (30x40ft), that I saw my dad’s gardening gene assert itself. In my mind, I can still see and hear his growing passion for the flowers he planted and nurtured … but more of that later. The 2ft border that ran around my childhood lawn was planted with roses and a few annuals the names of which I can’t remember.
So where were the seeds of my gardening passion sown? Bottom line … I don’t know. I have trawled the timeline of my life to date, looking for clues, anything that could shed light on the matter. Was it something visual? Something sensory? Something deeper, some Freudian need for control, something to do with breastfeeding. I don’t know, but here I am … … “and where is that?”, you may ask. Having worked full time for nearly 40 years, I am writing from various locations in what is a larger than average garden but by no means “an estate”. It measures approximately 300ft x 30ft and is divided into 6 sections (confession – for reasons unknown to me I am not a lover of the phrase “garden rooms”).
So, it seems that I have gradually become one of those “grizzled, grey haired” older men that I remember from my youth. The caveat here is that I’ve shaved my head for the last 30 years although I do retain a grey/white beard! What sage personal reflections might I be able to tease out in terms of my love of gardens/gardening? I’ve briefly explored some of my observations below. They are not in order of importance but are documented as my reflections unfolded. My hope is that, in some way, shape or form, you may be able to make some connections to what follows …
- Gardening as a “disconnection”: It’s somewhat paradoxical but one of my connections to gardening is that it provided (and still provides), a space to disconnect from other, less attractive, and demanding areas of my life. Some might use the term “refuge” and although there are times when it feels like that, generally, the disconnect is of a gentler nature. It is often a physical process, involving digging, bending, lifting, the repetition of which carry their own benefits (and accompanying endorphin release). As a nurse, the first phase of my working career was an unbelievably rewarding, mental, physical and challenging experience. Over time, the shift from the world of the nurse to the world of the psychologist, whilst also challenging and enjoyable, was an introduction to another world, a world with a primary focus on the cerebral and not the physical.
There are times when the stressors associated with “life” seem overpowering. The equilibrium of daily existence is sometimes rocked, perspectives challenged, confidences and certainties bent out of shape. At times like these, gardening beckons … a space to disconnect and reconnect, to move from uncertainty to a degree of certainty, from perceived powerlessness to simple effectual control, a place in which one can rest easy with familiarity and to occupy a non-judgemental space. This is a world within a world in which one is both disconnecting … and connecting.
In the previous paragraph I used the word “gardening” instead of “the garden”. This was no accident. There are many out there who have little or no garden (in the traditional sense). Yet the rewards of gardening are still there to be held and nurtured. In a piece to come entitled “100 centimetres”, I will explore the absolute joys I experienced from growing a range of meadow flowers in a 100cm Corten steel circle this year. It was one of the revelations of my gardening life to date.
- Gardening as a connection to, and activator of, creativity: Where do I begin? In many ways, I was late to the gardening creativity party. Not that I was in any way, uncreative. When I reflect on my life path to date, creativity has been a central (indeed “core”) element. It has woven its seductive charms throughout my life to date. Painting as a child (not in an “art school” kind of way!), poetry as an adolescent (all angst and emerging sexuality), music as a young adult (shit violin player), and older adult (the guitar, band, writing songs), my career as a lecturer, the search for understanding (as a psychologist), and now, the creative opportunities afforded by this patch of land.
What I was late to realise was how important creativity is in terms of my day-to-day existence. This gradual realisation was nurtured by the garden and is not a benign event. Knowing the importance of creativity has provided me with a framework that I can attend to in times of need. More often than not, at times when I find myself in a period of lethargy, when things seem “dull” and “lifeless”, it is, in part, because of the absence of creativity. This might be an opportunity for you to consider the role of creativity in your own world. Remember, creativity doesn’t simply refer to the “big stuff”, (writing a novel, appearing on TV, having a garden at Chelsea), it includes planting a seed, pruning a rose, creating something slightly different out of the vegetables you’ve just harvested, organising the pots on your balcony for maximum impact … all examples of creativity.
In gardening we literally have creativity at our fingertips … and in that creativity, we have the opportunity to express our “selves”.
- Gardening as a connection to who you are: This might be a leap too far for some but bear with me. Here’s a question: When you take those daily steps from the back door to the “outside” (to the other world!), are you walking into what is, in part, an expression of who you are? Going down even further into what could become some philosophical gardening rabbit hole, I might ask “Is your garden an expression of who you were, who you are, and who you could be?”
Let me illustrate from a personal perspective … It was only after working the garden for several years that I realised how important “seating” is within the space that I was creating. Not just the simplicity of “Where can I put a chair (or chairs)?” but “How can I create a space where I can sit … and feel secluded, wrapped, screened off from other parts of the garden, from neighbours, from anywhere else apart from in that space, at that moment?” Over time, I realised that I function best when I am able to experience moments of calm, a self-imposed short period of being alone. Time to reflect, time to plan, time to rest, times to savour … time to breathe.
On a daily “gardening” basis I have learned that I am an individual who, wherever possible, tries to avoid killing anything (slugs included!). I’ve mentioned this elsewhere on the site but it’s worth restating … I’ve learned that my world is impoverished if I cannot express my creativity. My garden has taught me that I can’t have everything right here, right now (see “Patience and the management of expectations). There’s so much more … but this is not a confessional …yet!
One last question for now: Is it possible that your garden (or gardening space), can tell you something about yourself? … … or is it impossible?
I’ll continue this exploration in a subsequent post. Hopefully giving some space to a consideration of connections to control, to other people, to pleasure, to humility, and maybe more.