Melodic Season

Spring is here and my garden helps me to go with the chaos and let go of control.

On Mother’s Day we planted three plum trees. My kids helped dig out the holes and shovel the soil over the tangle of bare roots. I asked if we could take pictures of them with the little saplings to remember how small or big the kids and trees were when we planted the plums. When we planted our other fruit trees years ago, the kids and the saplings were close in height, now they have all grown and I need a pole saw to reach the top branches of the trees.

Spring is in full bloom and almost feeling like summer. A week ago the maple leaves were barely there, now green is covering the branches, and the lilacs are starting to bloom. This is the rare time of year that my kids end up in the garden with me, when weeding and weed whacking are new and exciting, before it gets too hot, buggy, and boring for them. I draw on their spring enthusiasm to help water and care for the plants. They treat the sprouts and shoots more tenderly than they dare to treat each other.

In contrast to the frozen bare branches of winter, the flowery month of May buzzes with insects and an energy of doing and needing to be done. Most of the garden needs to be planted or weeded, though my seedlings aren’t quite ready to go in the ground. The hours I spend tending to many of the garden beds have been so soothing to my mind which also buzzes, in frantic circles, keeping track of plans for the week and thinking about all the things I need to do. Purposeful physical movement, however repetitive, is an excellent antidote to the constant whirling of my brain.

The green and growing energy of spring combined with the busy activities and tasks required once the world thaws, can feel overwhelming. As it all swirls around me, I want to make it make sense, to organize it and smooth it all over. But using my brain power to try to figure it out, to tame it, to force it into something sensical is what really takes energy and makes everything more exhausting.

Over the winter I slipped into some small routines which were welcome but not deliberately planned. It is easy to feel discouraged when these routines fall away, but I know that each season brings different priorities and it isn’t that I failed to keep up, it’s a shift to different needs at a different time.

The birds wake me early on May mornings. My windows are open and the catbird is right outside singing a long varied song. Although I don’t share their enthusiasm at 3:45 AM, it is easier to get up and get going than in other less melodic seasons. The early mornings offer extra time for writing or walking or allowing suitable rhythms to emerge for this part of the year.

Out in my perennial beds, I dig holes and stick plants in with only a moment’s thought about where they should go. Every spring I divide and dig up parts of the plants that have spread and move them to emptier parts of the garden. When I can add new plants, I go to the nursery with the intention of getting what’s on my list but I always end up choosing some other unfamiliar plants that look interesting and pretty.

I am slowly adding a plant here and there to paint over the mulched beds with these leaves, stalks, and flowers, then letting them do the work of filling in the space. Many people feel intimidated by gardening, but you don’t need a much more than a tiny, or generous patch of land or a pot of soil and seeds or plants that you enjoy. Some gardeners have a plan and vision for the landscape they want to create, my only expectations for my perennial beds is that they provide some beauty and can be a habitat for birds, pollinators, and beneficial insects.

For so much in my life, I have very high expectations. I don’t want to do the wrong thing or go the wrong way. But in creative places and pursuits, I can find freedom and let go of control. I practice the skill of trying, experimenting, and learning and l lean into my imperfectionist tendencies. I would rather enjoy the process, trust my muscle memory, and follow the creative trail than strain to do it perfectly. While my mind strives to make the busy demands of life into something coherent, I approach creativity without any desire for precision, trusting in myself and hoping I can make it work well enough.

I wish for calm in my daily life but out the back door I just smile and roll my eyes at the leave the poppies, strawberries, violets, and lupines all growing together. They are beautiful in June and chaotic and messy the rest of the year. My garden is a place that reminds me that things are always changing, nothing lasts for ever, and saplings and kids are meant to grow. My creative practice is a release from trying to make it calm and controlled, a way to explore this impermanence and uncertainty. A reminder that I can’t get perfectly right.

Warmly,

Anna