Not Yet Garden Part 1
So many hopes. So many possibilities. It’s a little like when you first fall in love.
From the back porch of our new house, I see this little backyard and envision a garden. It may be a “not-yet garden,” but it is a beautiful garden in my mind’s eye. Now there are only a few healthy plants but mostly plants that have seen their prime, a few that have already let go of life, and several empty patches, eagerly awaiting new residents. I can see new plantings that will join the ones hanging on and help them all reach for that second chance. I can see Hydrangea in that empty space encouraging the courageous tulips that have announced the new season all by themselves. I can imagine Ivy where there is now only rock creating a frame for the phlox that seems to have given up. And I can hear the old soil that’s become too sandy crying out for some new richer soil, so it can live into its purpose of nourishing plants to their full potential of beauty and inspiration.
In the center of my not-yet-garden is an enormous Pecan tree. It’s taller and older than any tree on our street. Its branches reach into the backyards of both our neighbors. It is a grand tree. I’d love to know the history of this tree. I wish this tree could tell me its story. There are squirrels living in this Pecan tree that play games chasing one another from branch to branch. I wonder how many generations of squirrels have lived in this tree. I wish these squirrels could tell me their story.
How lucky we are to have this space - where we hope to reside long enough to see plantings mature - to live through seasons and cycles of life and death - to be able to see the fruits of our labor and the blooms that emerge – all through the mysterious benevolence of the source of all life that we refer to inadequately as God.
It is a joy to imagine working in this garden. The plants, the sunlight, the air and water that will nourish this garden - all part of that magnificent cycle of life in which we stand, breathe, grow, and love. I am part of this yet-to-be-garden. So are you. To acknowledge those cycles is to see and embrace our place in the process of life that holds and sustains all that is. That gives me a sense of belonging and place that is more secure than the sense of place I get from membership in any clubs organization or even church. That sense of place and belonging is certainly more secure than I get from the building we call home. Yeah, that building we just bought and moved into today; that building with the failed air conditioning unit that somehow got missed during the house inspection; that building with the broken locks, the four cracked windows, and the termite infested rafters in the cellar that were also missed during the house inspection. That building with the broken garbage disposal, and the oven and range that died when it was first turned on today; that building with the furnace that gave its last gasp at precisely the same moment the air conditioning unit died – today - move-in day.
And as I stand on our little back porch imagining all that might be, the words of our house inspector ring in my ears:
“You’re from up North, are ya? Well this is a great old house. Beautiful moldings and mantles. You’re gonna’ like it here. It’s an old house remember. So they’ll be a few things that’ll need fixin’ in time, but overall she’s a good house. Yes, she’s a good house. I just love that Pecan tree in the back. That’s a real treasure it is. You take care of that Pecan tree. They’re a status symbol, you know.”
Yes, I love my not-yet garden and I DO love this Pecan tree, status symbol or not. And it is an old house that’ll need some fixin’ up a little sooner than later. And so I plant myself on our back porch - overlooking the not-yet-garden that will be grown for us by that miraculous source of life we cannot see – but can in short glimpses may come to know. I look over my not-yet-garden reigned over by this glorious Pecan Tree with its own family of squirrels. Life is good. All will be well.