Weeks of vintage glamour, brocade evening gowns and delicate glass glistening with gold now comes to an end and I find myself in the Meadow Garden after a month of garden neglect. The wind has torn off, tangled up and ripped out of the ground the rabbit proof gate and post and beaten my tall, statuesque Brussels Sprouts plants to the ground. Unhappily, at first, I breath in the peaty Moorland air as I squelch in my wellington boots onto the sodden grass to pull up the gate. Another deep breath and then, very soon after, I find myself soothed by this manual task and am now content and accepting of the force of the wind and nature which governs this wild terrain where I chose to live my life.
As I harvest my Red Cabbage crop, I am quickly muddy and wet and an old Zen proverb, shared with me by a special friend, many years ago, begins to seep into my thoughts.
Before Enlightenment, chop wood, carry water. After enlightenment, chop wood, carry water.
And I feel good and happy and free and so grateful that I know the value of the simple tasks and of hard work. Gardening is like that, it clears a path to something elemental which feeds the body and the soul.
And it feels so good!