Conversations with Frederick...

Nowadays, whenever I have a problem or am seeking some sound advice, I turn to Frederick. No, he's not my therapist – he's the plastic owl watching over the garden. Okay, so maybe I don't really sit down and talk with the inanimate object, but I've found a great deal of peace going out to the garden and doing a simple task like weeding or watering. It's quiet in the garden and I'm able to clear my head and work through whatever ails me. There's a magic in the rituals and routines, of doing what needs to be done. When paired with the magic of growing things, it seems like there is nothing too difficult that can't be dealt with. It's a potent force – a healing force.

And so I turned to Frederick a few days ago. I lost myself in the tasks of pulling up the weeds that grow in between the black plastic and around the bases of the plants. After awhile it felt as though I had come apart, the knots tied in my stomach unfurling. I felt a lightness, as though I were a dust devil, swirling in a loose and intangible form. I was wind. I was earth. I was summer sun.

Above is a shot of the entire garden. Most of the things we planted survived and are doing quite well. Some of them, sadly, died. But I don't dwell on the small shortcomings. I look at the big picture, the entire garden. When I look out onto the garden, I'm filled with a sense of potential and possibility. My mind starts dreaming of what I'm going to do and how I'm going to do it. My thoughts are flung far ahead, thinking of when the harvest is over and when I'll need to start preparing the soil for the next season, of layering leaves and manure and old newspapers and grass clippings and compost. I'm already dreaming of what to add or take away, of what new things will grow here.

Slowly the fruits of our labors are coming to bare – a pepper, a kohlrabi, a small tomato.

The broccoli is already starting to form a small head and the lettuce has already needed to be harvested. I'll plant more later. In between the rows of lettuce new spinach seeds were planted and have already started to poke up. The zucchini have great, big cantaloupe-colored blossoms. The cucumbers also are in bloom and the cabbages are getting bigger. There's a poetry in this and I find myself trying to memorize every syllable.