August 26, 2020

I’m not a gardener, never have been. I adore flowers but never really understood how anyone could actually get joy out of doing the work to make them grow. I’d rather spend that time in the kitchen, cooking and baking. Years ago (lots of years ago), I worked for a Parks & Rec department. The secretary would arrive in the morning with beautiful roses from her garden for the office. I would arrive with fresh baked muffins still hot from the oven. We’d look at each other and say “how do you find the time to do that?!” Each to their own hobby.

I still love baking, but one of the remarkable things about this strange and surreal time is how forced changes to living patterns lead us to enjoy new things as well. Like gardening.

Back in May, when the spring rains were over and our small backyard lawn went from lush green to dry brown and the soil in the planters dried up. I decided to – gasp! – start watering regularly (we haven’t had working sprinklers in 40 years). Lo and behold, not only did the backyard respond with blossoms and new growth, but I found I was enjoying the “chore.” I’ve fallen into a routine of watering the backyard at night, lit only by the ambient light from the breakfast room windows. There is something very meditative and restorative to standing alone in the dark under the moon (if there is one) and the few stars (if it isn’t too overcast) watering plants.

There is also something lovely about watching things grow, day by day, week by week. I think herbs are the perfect garden plant. They grow quickly, need very little care, they attract birds and butterflies with their flowers and fragrance, and, best of all, you can eat them!

One of the added joys of herbs is that they root easily from cuttings, and I don’t have to grow them from seeds or go to a garden store and have to decide what plants to buy. I have flourishing plants of rosemary, mint, sage, and thyme which all came from grocery store packages of cut fresh herbs meant for cooking. I keep them fresh by putting them in water on the windowsill instead of in the fridge. If I don’t use them up after a week or so, they often start sending out roots. If the roots become robust enough, I stick them in the ground outside. More often than not, those plants take hold.

I feel a little sheepish cheerleading for gardening, when humans have been doing it all over the world since the beginning of time. But heck, it is new to me! I don’t expect that I’ll ever graduate to tomatoes or a rose garden, but as I water my herbs under the stars, I understand just a little bit better what keeps gardeners returning to the soil, and I have a few more moments of peace in a chaotic world.