Gardens are works in progress

Playing in the dirt is good for the soul.

The past several days have been a blur of activity at Head Acres. We have pulled weeds, dodged some nasty looking bugs, and ran screaming from some pretty dicey spiders.

We’re not the only gardeners getting up close and personal with nature. I saw a post from a friend in Tucumcari who, when turning over a pot, came too close to a scorpion. So now, we’re turning over pots and moving sticks and debris very gingerly.

Spiders and bugs aside, there is a meditative quality to removing the old and planting the new. And like all things, this year’s garden will be better because of past lessons learned.

This year, we’ve planted veggies in containers and clearly marked what is what. This wasn’t so much a lesson as it was a course in survival.

In gardens’ past, we had planted a variety of mixed greens, and it was with a feeling of grand success when I harvested the greens for a salad. A handful of minutes into dinner, my husband Wayne and I started getting itchy and having some breathing issues. Turns out, I’d confused mixed greens with chrysanthemums.

We’ve learned over the years what we can successfully grow when our planting areas are more caliche than dirt. We have learned to adjust our expectations to mesh with what we have, and what we can make work. As accomplished as I feel, there is still much to be done. Like people, gardening is a work in progress.

There’s commitment and caring that goes into a successful garden. It takes time and patience. It requires nurturing, weeding, watering. It’s a labor of love.

There’s a lot of daydreaming and some thinking that takes place in the garden. It’s a peaceful place to work out problems, to make plans, to think up new adventures. It’s also a terrific place to reconnect not only with nature, but with people. Each evening, we sit outside and enjoy the peace and tranquility, and tolerate the bugs and spiders. We talk and read. We don’t solve the world’s problems, but those have been on the table for discussion as well.

The garden has become an adult version of a time-out space, where it’s OK to play in the dirt, and to sit and just breathe for a bit. Maybe it’s a way to reconnect with my childhood, where people sat on porches and waved at neighbors. Or maybe it’s a way for us to just be for a while.

All’s well in the garden.

Patti Dobson writes about faith for The Eastern New Mexico News. Contact her at:

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