back in the garden

Looking out at my garden this afternoon, it's a very different season from when I last posted here. Since Baby D's belated arrival in early October, needless to say, my nurturing has been directed away from the garden! We enjoyed an abundant apple harvest from our neighbour's tree (with her permission!) that provided many a snack, pudding and salad supplement. Not to mention the several crumbles for our freezer which were very welcome wholesome comfort food in the early days after our unfortunately difficult birth journey.
Apples that the worms beat us to still lie in our flower-beds, rotting into the soil to hopefully nourish the bulbs and seeds that should soon be thinking about uncurling. A few apples still dangle stubbornly from one of the trees. Some spring plants did poke their heads above ground in confusion in late September, when summer seemed to return after Autumn started. "That didn't seem a very long sleep....oh and now it's cold again! What do we do?! Well I'll just nod here looking a  bit helpless, trying to cling to the soil as the wind sweeps me horizontal, praying I'll survive the frost. Damn false spring!"

The raised beds are deserted of anything useful. Today I pulled up a straggle of stunted spinach from the one that some fungal species is taking over. The other two are a maze of tangled remains of squash and courgette plants, one little squash baby still thinking about whether or not it will grow. My husband has pruned the vine and the fruit bushes right back. I reflect on all the things we planted this year; the courgettes did very well but it seems a year of difficult "fruitings" all round, leaving a rather shocked, battered look. Soggy fallen leaves and twigs are strewn everywhere, the assault of today's rain and winds probably knocking over the potted cyclamen that they did last week. The only glory is confined to our blueberry bush,  its leaves like proud pretty jewels, and our potted hawthorn - a wedding present to us last year, the joke about it's fertility connection having been often made. Today it quivers its golden leaves like one of those small, timid people you meet who turns out to be strong as an ox. I started a brief tidy-up, as I did one sunny day last week. I whirled around for a whole ten minutes, cold hands grabbing at weeds,  unneeded canes or rotting apples at risk of suppressing something more exciting. Then it was time to be Mama again, to run towards the familiar wail and scoop up my son with loving arms and soothing words, and fumble about to snuggle him in for a feed.

Mothering seems to be a lot of this; as soon as little eyes are tight shut, and breathing heavier, to dash about competing with yesterday's inventory of how many ticks can go on the mental to-do list before that wail-song starts up again. It triggers an immediate disappointment, let's be honest, a falling sensation in the heart whilst the mind goes "but I still need to...". But then my eyes meet those bright, wet blue ones looking up at me; slightly desperate, slightly panicked, so beautiful. And nothing else matters.

♥

Daily dose of nature

Any nature-haters here?

I don't think I know anyone who dislikes nature (and I'm afraid I've no prizes available to offer the 1^st person who puts their hand up!). Ok, so not all my acquaintances are gardening enthusiasts, hardcore hillwalkers or eco-activists. Yet I don't think I've met anyone who wouldn't find a vivid sunset beautiful, or who wouldn't find some level of wonder in a view of the Himalayas (or the Lake District!).

Which makes nature a kind of universal common ground for us all. How wonderful is that- that, amongst all our differences and disagreements, there's something that most human beings all like? A shared current of joy and inspiration. Something that connects us all.

  In fact, there's a fair bit of evidence that time spent with nature is a good health investment. Theodore Roszak, who passed away last month, introduced the term ecopsychology and wrote a fair bit about the healing potential to ourselves and to the planet if we adopt a closer relationship with nature (1) The term ecotherapy has been used to describe therapeutic use of animals, conservation work, gardening or other time spent outdoors with people experiencing issues such as behavioural difficulties or mental health problems (2). Better still, such activities have the physical benefits brought by exercise, a social aspect that can reduce isolation and improve interpersonal skills, and opportunity for self-development. Mental Health charity MIND have known this for a while and fortunately secured funding for its Ecominds projects, bringing the above benefits (and more) to thousands of people across England (3).

In harmony with the apples

Looking out of the open door next to me into my garden, I reflect on what it's given my husband and I since we moved in 18 months ago (aside from pretty flowers and yummy veg!). Before this, we hadn't had a garden space that we could really put to use (well, my parents had let me have an old Belfast sink in their garden to experiment my horticultural abilities in. My teenage plant-it-and-then-forget-about-it technique seemed to suit the fennel and thyme!). I've still not perfected protecting the veg from the slugs, who I'm reluctant to kill with beer or pellets, but who make my heart sink when I come out in the morning to find munched the seedling I've just planted after weeks of nurture on the windowsill. It's a lesson in patience, problem-solving, loss and assessing values.

   More positively, there's warm satisfaction in watching new shoots come up and grow into actual recognisable vegetables, of feeling responsible for something living. We're far from self-sufficient for our fruit and veg needs, and we've a lot of learning to do, but we let ourselves enjoy a bit of pride in our produce. It's also lovely to share our space with visitors- particularly those who don't have gardens (and those who have expertise that they don't mind imparting!)

   We can also watch the cycles of nature; each day, something changes in our garden, reminding us of the tides of growth, bloom, wilting and death. In just a quick scan around, we connect with the season and with the parallels to our own lives. In the last few months, since becoming pregnant, I've felt quite synchronised with our neighbour's lovely apple tree (which kindly stretches into our garden). The buds were just forming and the green just coming in not long after we found out that we were expecting. Then tiny apples began to form as I started to show, becoming more recognisable as I looked more definitely pregnant. Now, they're fully formed apples but still with a fair bit of growing to do to become ripe- and they will be at around the time our baby is due.

Omnipresent nature.

Even without a garden, nature's still never far away. Bristol has some beautiful parks that I crunched leaves or threw snowballs in back in my pre-garden-owning days. Even without time for tending an allotment or for joining a conservation group, maybe a walk around the streets near your home can wave some honeysuckle or jasmine under your nose at this time of the year, or show you some ripening blackberries that you can revisit soon (with a tub!). Or give you plenty of other people's gardens to nose at! (Something that, as the owner of a fairly small, amateur, uncolourful garden, I really enjoy). We can all tune into something- the birdsong, the creatures crossing our path, the feel of the air. As Buddhists (and several non-Buddhists!) know through their practice of mindfulness, focusing on what's immediately around us, becoming absorbed in what's going on right here in this moment, takes us away from the constant internal chatter of our minds and helps bring inner peace. Find a local tree to watch its journey through the seasons- I've found that connecting to these rhythms reduces that “where the hell's the year gone?” feeling for me, particularly when I ask myself how that phase is mirrored in my own life. Which of your windows is best for growing herbs in or watching sunset from? As I said, I've never met anyone who dislikes a colourful sunset.

Mo ♥

Heart shaped leaves!   :)

My religion is nature. That’s what arouses those feelings of wonder and mysticism and gratitude in me. —Neurologist and author Oliver Sacks

References

1. In particular, Roszak's book Voice of the Earth (1992, Simon & Schuster). http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/obituaries/culture-obituaries/books-obituaries/8650652/Theodore-Roszak.html
2. British Medical Journal Volume 331 (November 25^th, 2005) Getting Close To Nature is Good For You Retrieved from Science Daily on July 27 , 2011
3. http://www.mind.org.uk/ecominds

Also see http://www.ecopsychology.org/

 

Sharing values in a Thai textile shop

The Textile-lover's Treasure Trove
Earlier today, I was thinking about a woman I met in Chiang Mai, Thailand, last year. My husband stumbled across her shop on one of the days when I was trying to learn the various presses, pulls and meridian line up-ing and down-ing of Thai Massage in the north-western city. When he came to meet me, he excitably told me he had somewhere to show me, rightly convinced that I would love the bags, wallhangings and scarves that sprang out of baskets and flapped on the walls of this textile-lover's treasure trove.

 The woman- I regret never asking her name- greeted us warmly. Seeing me stroking my way through some rolls of indigo-dyed fabrics - some plain, some with beautiful patterns woven in - she told me about the hilltribes that made them, and about what characterised their style. She then said she would leave us to look, and did so for several minutes. When she returned, I was intrigued by a purple-y brown striped, woven skirt made in a straight, tubular shape with a wide plain cream band at the top. She demonstrated how to wear it- mentioning its additional bonus of being adjustable for when a woman is pregnant! (Having bought the skirt, I am now appreciating this feature!)

Traditional v modern

   She was a gentle, un-pushy woman. A more cynical person than myself may accuse her of cleverly recognising that this can be a more effective sales technique than the in-your-face flattery, “special price just for you” and laying-out-the-entire-shop's-stock-at-your-feet style of many of the night market stallholders. However, her serenity seemed to radiate around her shop and, although she spoke softly, to me it was with a genuine passion for the traditional handicrafts of her country - and a keeness to share it with a fellow fabric-collector. She felt that, although hilltribes were sometimes starting to buy modern machinery to increase the output of textiles, the actual expense of buying and maintaining these machines often did not actually increase income and alleviate poverty long-term. She very much favoured keeping alive the traditional skills and for hilltribes to retain their individuality and independence in this way.

The Loss of the Story

   I returned to the shop on other days and we continued to talk about textiles and about differences between life in her country and mine. Any item I asked about, she told me which region it had come from and the production process. She liked to buy directly from those who had made the products and provide an outlet in Chiang Mai for them to sell their handicrafts though as many hilltribe communities tend to live very rurally.

   I could see several of my own values mirrored in hers; the desire for items to have a uniqueness and be made in a way respectful to the local and global environment, communities and traditions, minimising waste,  and for the buyer to know the story of the product they are buying. I believe that much of our lack of lasting fulfillment that we experience comes from expecting fulfillment, status and happiness from mass-produced goods whose story we do not know and so cannot connect to. (And that then, if we do consider their story, we are faced with difficult ethical questions regarding sweatshops, use of harmful chemicals and funding of oppressive regimes and practices).

When I joined Etsy, (www.etsy.com), I was pleased to see that they also have at their core this desire for products to “tell their story” and to be unique. I enjoy seeing this being encouraged at markets, craft fairs, galleries and independent shops, as well as online. Do you remember when, as a kid, your mum coaxed you to make a birthday card (or something) for your Grandma (or someone) and that they'd love it “because you made it”? It doesn't have to stop when you grow up! And, if you feel you just don't have the time/skill/enthusiasm to be creative, it doesn't have to be you that does the hand-making.

Mo  ♥
www.heartshapedhands.co.uk
www.etsy.com/shop/heartshapedhands

Buddhist monks at a Chiang Mai monastry prepare to release a wish lantern at the November 2010 Loi Katung festival