There comes a time each season when you must decide which of the plants needs to go. Some of the tomatoes were ripped out this weekend to make room for the next lot - garlic and red cabbage and celery, fingers crossed. Nights are cool, especially after the rain we caught the edge of recently. Summer's nearly done.
It's not easy to make this mind of mine quiet, but I swear, I'm going to keep trying. The brief glimpses of what it's like to be properly still I've been learning feel good. Really good. I like to think that gardening is an act of meditation, the photography, in a way, too. In Bali, the women made incredible flower mandalas each morning. Wonderful things, quiet meditations on nature. Just my thing.
"still" is one of those words of many meanings - reading this made me think that one of the amazing things about gardens is that they don't stand still - frustrating at times but often wonderful. And yet the still that you speak of has a different hue of the calm that gardens bring!
Posted by: Johanna GGG | March 12, 2012 at 11:24 PM
Quiet meditations on nature -- lovely. And those tomatoes look ripe and delicious.
Posted by: Denise | Chez Danisse | March 13, 2012 at 11:49 AM
Looks like your tomatoes did better than mine. I've now officially given up on tomatoes and will search for quiet meditation with a glass of wine. ;-)
Posted by: Amanda | March 14, 2012 at 10:18 AM
haha! I'm with Amanda, Sydney had the wettest summer. Luscious red, yours.
Still.
Not like the chit chit chat on Twitter, hey. You've been missed but!
Posted by: sharon | March 16, 2012 at 07:29 PM
the stillness inside that opens to the Self...
yes. it does feel better than ANYTHING.
may we both keep touching into that more and more.
here we have rains, melting all the snow.
spring is slowly waking up the land.
i'm going to go out now and cut some pussy willow to bring inside.
this weekend i will start some tomato seeds (!) and prune the raspberries, maybe but back the dead ferns on the asparagus too. the garlic is not up yet, but it will be soon.
Posted by: alison | March 17, 2012 at 07:35 AM
j: being in the garden is so...thrilling, as well as stilling! you are right, darl.
d: they were divine, red all the way through.
a: ha! smart woman, you.
s: oh, i noes...in a way, i miss youse on the twits, but i've no time to party now! that rain. it sucked, no?
ali: i am, of course, just at the beginning of the learning, but i can see the point, see how clear it makes EVERYthing when you get it right. i am planting garlic in the next few weeks. might need a lesson or two, my friend...hey, have you grown yellow raspberries? saw some in a catalogue on the weekend and got very excited.
Posted by: Lucy | March 19, 2012 at 08:33 AM
I come to your blog to still my wandering (& often fretful) mind. A quiet but emphatic "yes" to all things you consider meditations.
Posted by: Elaine | April 21, 2012 at 03:09 PM
e, have you ever tried meditation? i ask simply because it's become something that makes me feel much lighter, lighter in every sense of the word. i am so lucky to have people like you in my world - and i am so happy that, in a small way, you find stillness here. xx
Posted by: Lucy | May 03, 2012 at 08:44 AM
They look so natural and fresh. I am glad your toil did not go to waste. I love what you are doing with your garden. This makes me believe that you eat natural foods that you have produced personally. Your hardwork is so inspiring.
Posted by: TIM | June 27, 2012 at 06:48 AM
no, i have not grown yellow raspberries here because they don't do the best in our climate zone. they're delicate and good and totally worth it where you are, i'm thinking. go for it!
Posted by: alison | December 15, 2012 at 09:03 AM