I don’t care what anybody says, summer is still three weeks from
being over. There’s plenty of time to sip and savor. Sunsets to
watch, fruits and vegetables to pick and eat fresh, siestas to take
in the hammock, barefoot morning strolls around the dew-drenched
garden, al fresco meals to be had … summer is a state of mind.
Having recently returned from a trip overseas, I did go through a
bout of whipping the garden into some order. Nothing drastic. Just to
have it look sufficiently fetching and looked after. Apart from the
ongoing tasks of weeding and watering, this is the window to loll
about before the fall frenzy begins.
While others are in the back-to-school mode and getting their own
schedules and agendas in order, I take this opportunity to extend my
summer bliss. There are still books to be read and friends to catch
up with.
Certainly, the signs of fall are there. The sun sets earlier, leaves
are slowly turning, apples are beginning to blush and there is that
barest hint of cooler days approaching. All of that notwithstanding,
I see the turtleheads coming into full bloom, the Joe Pyes are abuzz
and aflutter with pollinators, the phlox is saturating the garden in
perfume, the cardinal flowers are beacons for hummingbirds and there
are yet tomatoes ripening on the vine for summer salads and
sandwiches.
For now, I leave you with my stubborn hold on summer –
The weather this past weekend was nothing short of stellar. It could
not be beat. Bright and sparkly, low humidity, temperatures in the
low 70’s. After two weeks in rain soaked Mumbai, this was quite
literally a breath of fresh air. What an amazing homecoming.
Taking advantage of this gift, I visited Stonecrop Gardens in Cold Spring, NY on Saturday. If you’ve never been, you must. It was Frank Cabot’s home – yes, the man who helped found the Garden Conservancy. You can read all about this garden on their website. It’s quite a gem.
Summer’s end is not typically the best time to visit most gardens.
But I was in need of it. Inspiration is always to be found and I was
not disappointed. Big splashes of summer color and a seasonal
untidiness abounded. I loved the fullness of the plantings
everywhere. The realities of the season made apparent by burgeoning
seed-heads, flamboyant flowers, plants jostling for space in their
beds and a certain wildness to it all. This was Life at full
throttle. In contrast, the verdant quietude found in the wisteria
pavilion by the pond provided that pause to breathe deeply and free
the mind from quotidian worries.
In walking around, I realized that the high point for me, was the
general end-of-season mess and the sight of the ravaged leaves of
kale and other plants. Critter(s) had gone to town and riddled the
leaves so they looked like badly made lace antimacassars. I found
that very comforting because it made me feel like my own garden was
in good company. This is the reality. If you’re using organic
methods, one cannot have a pristine, near perfect, neat and tidy
garden at the close of the summer. Given the strange spring and
summer we have had, it’s been particularly difficult to manage the
garden as one has in years past. Weather fluctuations have been so
erratic that my expectations were lowered sufficiently to protect my
ego from too much injury.
By observing how lovely Stonecrop looked despite everything made me
see my own garden with kinder eyes and appreciation.
Energized by that visit, on Sunday, I whipped the garden into better
shape. A little cosmetic fiddling goes a long way. Weeding,
deadheading, pruning and a general tidying up did wonders. I revamped
the window-boxes and other urns and pots with a bit of tropical flair
that I can only explain as the influence of my recent sojourn to
India. Traveling has that impact doesn’t it?
And now, I’m set to enjoy the remaining weeks of summer with renewed enthusiasm. Salut!
Chilies in the window boxesPruned back espalierLast rose(s) of summer? LemonsNote the banana plants standing sentryNew batch of cool weather greensThe meadowPink turtleheads in the meadowParty ready
Water
is in the news quite a bit these days.
Too little or none at all. Too much, too soon is just as bad.
Certainly this is predicted to be the biggest, most critical problem
we will have to resolve in
the not too distant future.
Water will direct the next mass migrations of humans as they are
forced to adapt to the changing weather patterns – a result of both
natural and man-made acts. As a global community we will have to
decide right now how we will deal with shifting populations/refugees,
how we grow our food, utilize energy, reprogram our use of
water and indeed our entire way of living. While government agencies
and related organizations grapple with the big picture, if one has
not personally begun taking steps towards this impending crisis, it
is now time to start.
As of this minute. I’m not being an alarmist – the snooze button
to that alarm has been hit way too often already.
I’m
writing this during
a ten day stay in monsoon swamped Mumbai. It is wet, warm and muggy.
The air feels spongy even when it isn’t raining. The dampness
pervades everywhere.
Without air-conditioning to lower the humidity, I’d be hard pressed
to be comfortable and sleep would be impossible. This has been a
particularly heavy monsoon season.
Despite so much rain, the city is still aware of the undependable nature of its water supply. It has signs all over asking her citizens to conserve, avoid waste and respect this life giving Adam’s Ale. And that got me wondering if those signs have any real impact on the mass. Does one read and/or pay attention to such ‘nudges’? As one drives through the generally thick traffic, is the mind even open to receiving any such advice? It then occurred to me that it was because of the stop and start, slow moving, thick traffic snaking along that I was able to notice the signs and ponder them. A seed, so to speak, had been sown. I can only imagine that a daily dose of ‘Don’t Waste Water’, ‘No Water, No Life’ will percolate into one’s conscience and guide the mind to the judicious use of water. Not a bad idea to have those signs put up after all. They certainly cannot hurt.
In
my own garden back home, I’ve long collected rainwater to water
parts of the garden. Particularly pots. To ensure that the plants do
not get parched when we’re away or otherwise distracted, we have
also rigged up a drip-system to routinely water the pots as some of
the plants require a consistent supply. The mechanism is attached to
a moisture sensor so that it will not release water if it has rained
or is raining. That
way, no water is unduly wasted.
Water
from cooking eggs, boiling vegetables etc is also collected for
watering. Often the boiling hot water is poured directly
over
the weeds trying to make their way through brick or flagstone paths.
Kills the weeds
effectively.
Still,
in a particularly dry period when rain is scarce, there are areas in
the garden that need a healthy
splash. Thus far, it’s been okay but I worry that the time when
watering our gardens whenever we see a need is coming to a close.
There will be a need to shift to plants that do better in semi-dry or
arid conditions. Fussy plants will have to be phased out.
It
feels a
bit
sad. But, we gardeners are a resilient species. We will adapt.
Indeed, we can lead the way. I for one have resolved to source
interesting/beautiful native
plants that do well under dry conditions and start introducing them
into the garden. The process will be deliberate,
mindful and
with any luck, enjoyable. Learning is growth.
Postscript: Of the many drinks I have consumed in the many places I’ve stopped at ( fancy as well as hole-in-the-wall joints), I have not seen a single plastic straw. The only straws I’ve been served have been compostable. Often, they are elegant, colorful, sturdily constructed paper. This is what progress looks like.
Note: There’s still time to see the Inside Small art show!
Heads Up! The second annual Untermyer Symposium is scheduled for Saturday, October 19. Mark your calendars. I will be moderating the panel discussion. Stay tuned for more details.
Some images from Mumbai –
Plants for sale!Decorative designs using flower petals, whole flowers and leaves,
It’s the lazy days of summer. I hope you’re making the most of
the season. They will become the memories that’ll get you through
the dark, cold days of winter. Ignore the to-do list and savor the
pleasures of summer.
Summer Nights
Wrapped in the
thick air
heavy with heat
laden with moist
Watching
fireflies
mimic the stars
against black
velvet
Serenaded boldly
by tree frogs
and crickets
Fanned from on
high
wings of bats
on purposeful
sorties
While night moths
answer service
calls
of moonflowers
and gardenias
Spicy notes of
phlox
rise with the
night
perfumed with
clove,
oil of bergamot
essence of rose
Lulled into
well being
content to remain
Greet the dew
of a new day.
–
Shobha Vanchiswar
Summer Dive
Sunlight spills
brilliant
diamonds
blinding ripples
shimmering winks
sliced apart
by summer’s first dive.
-Shobha Vanchiswar
Summer Joy
Summer
spreads wide
a
picnic blanket
of
meadow flowers and green, green grass
For
legs to brush against
bodies
to lie back
To
gaze upon
lofty
images of dogs and bears and hunting giants
From
dazzling day to evening glitter
Dew
gathers to mist
sun-warmed faces and naked toes
Summer
seems
like
an endless ride
filled
with ice-cream cones and fireflies
Of
water fights and watermelon wedges
children’s
laughter intoxicated
on
improbable tales
An
ephemeral age, an ephemeral time
summer passes overnight.
– Shobha Vanchiswar
Note:The Small Works exhibit is on through August. Do make time to see it!
Liberty
is the freedom to do as one ought to do.
I
learned this definition in fifth grade civics class – it was how we
started to understand what democracy meant.
A
cornerstone of a thriving civilization, freedom is all about having
choices. So one can chose their actions bearing
in mind one’s moral responsibility. To
choose to act after discerning between right and wrong, good and
evil. To do what is ethically correct for the greater good.
Keeping
that in mind, I take this power very seriously. Especially in the
garden where all too often a gardener is inclined to play lord and
master. It’s so
easy. We
have at our disposal so much control and power that all too often we
forget that gardening is a privilege. The very notion that I can
assume ownership of a piece of earth to do as I please is astounding.
Arrogant even.
While
I often kid that I’m the dictator-in-chief of the garden, in
reality, I feel my responsibility greatly. I’m allowed to freely
design, create and play in a this space in whatever way I please.
Within good
reason. And
that is the key. To use good reason.
My
principle commandment is to do
no harm.
Whatever action taken must have the least negative impact – on
humans, animals, plants, soil, water or air. On
that basis,
only organic methods are employed. But, trying to control pests
organically is not without cost. These natural products are not
specific to the
pest.
They affect the
good critters as well. So judicious application is imperative.
Compost
is used as fertilizer and mulch. The plants enjoy it. As do members
of the animal kingdom. They too
thrive because they are not harmed by compost and hence roam free and
make nests and homes underground and above, destroying root systems,
chomping on leaves and flowers, girdling trees, ruining lawns with
tunnels and burrows etc., Constant
vigilance is required so action can be taken as soon as possible.
Japanese beetles, red lily beetles and such are picked off and
dropped into hot, soapy water. After
years of battling those red devils, I’ve
stopped planting lilies but since I still grow fritillaria (
their close relative),
I must continue
to keep
a lookout. Mice, voles and other rodents are trapped. The
fruit trees must be sprayed with dormant oil only under specific
weather
conditions
and
at a particular time of year.
You
get the idea. It’s
not always easy to do the right thing.
Rain
water is collected, a
manual
reel-
mower cuts grass, since no herbicides are used, weeds are removed by
hand, native plants dominate the garden and support native fauna and
so on. Every one of those methods involves more work and effort. And
there are times when I’m completely frustrated. However, my
conscience is clear. I’m doing my part in exercising my freedom as
I ought.
This translates very well to everything else in life. Relationships, raising children, at work, being a part of the community, a town, a city, a country, the world at large. Imagine how powerful exercising our liberties as we should can be.
Note: The reception to Small Works is this Thursday, August 8. I’d love to see you there!
A few images of the challenges in the garden:
Mice attack on the espalier.Fully girdled trees were lost and had to be replaced.Sanguisorba attacked by Japanese beetles
Subsequent damageEvidence of voles under the front lawnLily’s under siege
July is coming to a close and what a month it has been in the garden. Hot, messy and erratic. That poem by Pasternak describes it so well.
Dictated by the
weather, I’ve been negligent of my garden duties. It’s just
really hard to get outside and work when merely standing still brings
on the sweat and sends out irresistible invites to all the biting
bugs near and far. Consequently, the chores get done in fits and
starts, bits and pieces. A little weeding here, some deadheading
there. The automatic watering system set up for the pots broke down
and needed fixing – mercifully, the preceding days had been wet so
the plants were relatively unharmed.
The heat wave put
paid to the plants in the pots on the wall on the side terrace.
Despite the daily watering, they simply could not take those high
temperatures. I’ve decided to empty out the pots and not replant.
With a very busy August schedule coming up, it’s time to simplify
matters somewhat.
They say this June
was the hottest one in recent history and July is turning out to
match it. Who knows what August will do.
Sunflowers have
appeared as happy surprises in one of the large bay standard pots. A
lone sunflower grew in the vertical garden. I’d stopped planting
lilies a few years ago because I lost the battle with the red lily
beetles. Well, as though waking up after a long slumber, a couple of
lily plants re-emerged this summer. Their leaves are ugly and chewed
up but the flowers look fine and are busy perfuming the front garden.
The garden might
look a bit unruly but it is fragrance heaven. Lilies in front soon to
be followed by phlox, gardenias and orange-blossoms on the side and
jasmine in the back. Heaven.
The meadow has been in serious need of attention. First, the jewelweed took advantage of my apathy and spread itself all over. Once they were deliberately reduced to more manageable numbers, a nettle of the sting-less variety moved in with a vengeance. It needs to be completely and ruthlessly removed all together. It’s been a real task trying to help the many new plants planted in late spring establish themselves. Fingers crossed …
The
hydrangea are in bloom – they provide much needed color in the
meadow right now. Elsewhere, the Echinacea
in their brightness are drawing the pollinators. I
really ought to plant more of these stalwarts and get rid of the
fussy, finicky members of the
garden. With harsh weather
becoming the new normal, it behooves a gardener to rethink the
plantings.
Tomato
season has begun. We’re enjoying the golden cherry tomatoes and
savoring the bigger varieties as they ripen. At this stage, each
fruit is precious. Soon, there will be a glut and we’ll take them
for granted as we make soups,
salads and sauces.
It’s so easy to obsess over the disheveled state of the garden, complain about the heat in July. But, looking around, amidst the green jungle, I see heroic flowers splashing color and fragrance all over. The herbs, leafy greens and, early tomatoes grace our meals. Ripening grapes and pears hold the promise of an autumn harvest. The asters are coming up strong for a good showing to close out the summer.
Under stressful circumstances, the garden is working hard to deliver. I must move to do the same.
Note:Consider yourself invited –
My July garden –
Lilies. Note the hole-riddled leaves. EchinaceaLate blooming clematisPearsFigsJasmineThe vertical garden with renegade sunflowerSunflower surpriseAgapanthusThe meadow before the serious weeding happened.TomatoesA harvest
The word labyrinth comes from the Greek labyrinthos and describes any maze-like structure with a single path through it which differentiates it from an actual maze which may have multiple paths intricately linked.
Labyrinths and labyrinthine symbols have been dated to the Neolithic Age in diverse regions across the globe. They continue playing a role in modern times.
My love affair with labyrinths began at childhood. The mystery books I devoured often featured a labyrinth or maze to offer riddles and clues in ways I now realize might have been a tad bit romanticized. Over the years, while mazes remain fun and exciting in a ‘hide-and-seek’ meets treasure-hunting sort of way, labyrinths have taken on a more meaningful, sacred role. To me, mazes get you to focus exclusively on the task of finding ones way to the center and then making the return trip to get out, thereby providing a complete distraction which can be refreshing and exhilarating. Getting lost and/or confused is all part of the experience.
In traversing a labyrinth, one can ostensibly see its entire design. The center is visible at all times. Where one is trying to get to is apparent. How to do so is not as clear. It’s only by mindful walking, taking in all the turns and switchbacks, that an individual makes it to the center – itself a site for rest and reflection. Labyrinths are not meant to be challenging. Instead they gently guide the walker to move through at an easy pace whilst permitting him/her to observe, think and center the mind. In doing so, by the time one reaches the labyrinth’s center, the mind has shed itself of all other distractions and arrives prepared for deeper meditation. In perfect silence, a well laid labyrinth teaches life lessons to all who walk it. Like the best of therapists it has us work out all our issues by ourselves.
A labyrinth sits there as a ready escape from chaos, a world gone mad, to find once again one’s true north. Typically set outdoors, it partners beautifully with nature to calm the mind and heart by purposefully removing the walker from the normal, linear understanding of time and direction. Slowly, the outside world recedes and one becomes aware of the world within ourselves. How we are feeling, what we hope for, the conflicting thoughts, the elusive solutions rise up and get understood. This active meditation leads to the deep meditation awaiting at the center. Sitting in quiet, breathing deeply and surrendering all diversionary thoughts gives one the gift of emerging clear headed and relaxed. Ready to face with clarity and acceptance that complex, noisy world we live in.
I’ve always longed to design a labyrinth. A good labyrinth has an ideal size. Too small and it fails to decompress the mind because the center is reached too quickly. Too big and it can get tedious. The amount of walking and turning must be just right. Even the width of the path must be correct – not too narrow and constricting or too wide and spacious. Creating an ideal labyrinth is not as easy as it might seem. Scale is key. Making paths of grass or mulch bordered by stones, low growing plants or any other natural material keeps the cost quite low. The simpler the better. Yet, an ideal design and layout is a call for creativity.
The only part of my garden that could support a proper labyrinth would be where the meadow lies. However, this area is sloped and uneven and must not be leveled for reasons of water drainage and run-off. I’m thus resigned to not having this feature of my own.
Last Sunday, I was taken to an absolutely lovely labyrinth at the Priory in Weston, Vermont. Sited on an open, flat space laid with paths of grass outlined by single lines of brick set in the ground, it is beautifully simple. The size is perfect and the design takes you just long enough to get to the inviting seats in the center. Beyond the labyrinth is a vast, open meadow full of native grasses and wild flowers. Birds, butterflies, bees and other critters abound. Feeling vulnerable and humble, I walked with the sounds of nature keeping me company. The sun was bright and a light breeze kept me from getting too warm. Seated in the center, as I came out of my reflections empowered and reaffirmed, I observed the meadow with the swaying grasses woven through with seasonal blooms of milkweed, daisies, black-eyed Susans and other flowers, above them, swallowtail butterflies played tag with each other – it all seemed so tranquil despite the obvious activity going on. The whole scene serving as a reminder that “creativity flows from a quiet mind”. As a flight of goldfinches rose up from within this meadow and made their separate ways, I too got up and purposefully followed the path to take me back to my awaiting world. Just as I left the labyrinth the priory bell was rung calling all to prayer and morning service. I did not join – I had after all just completed my worship.
The labyrinth in Weston, VermontThe meadow beyond.Notice the swallowtail on the milkweed at center lower half?!A labyrinth I visited in Cape Cod some years ago. Set amidst tall trees, it gives the sense of being in a cathedral.A labyrinth in upstate New York
It’s July. Fireworks, fireflies, picnics, barbecues, beaches and
books. In addition, for me, mosquitoes, mojitos, air-conditioning,
heat, humidity and guilt. I have very mixed feelings about summer.
The light filled days promise endless hours of outdoor pleasures and
the nights punctuated with bursts of firefly light and the fragrance
of summer phlox and gardenias bewitch and yet, I find myself banished
indoors for a good portion of the day seeking solace in
air-conditioned rooms redolent with gardenia in budvases and
rose-geranium infused lemonade. During the day, prone to migraines
triggered by the heat and humidity, I succumb easily to those
conditions. At night, the mosquitoes turn out in full force making it
near impossible to sit without itching and scratching. I’m loathe
to reach out for the only truly effective deterrent – a DEET spray.
Using it every now and then is fine but slathering it on everyday
makes me uneasy.
What works for me is to get some garden chores done in the cool,
early hours of the morning. It is actually quite pleasant working at
that time as the chorus of birds keep me company and the bees getting
a head start to their day inspire me to get cracking with my own. At
this mostly quiet period of the morning, I find myself occupied with
what needs doing whilst still enjoying the garden in its rather
riotous state of summer growth. A good couple of hours go by before
I’m made aware that I’m hot, uncomfortable and quite ready to
escape to cooler confines.
I’m certainly not inclined to deprive myself of the joys of
spending summer nights watching fireflies and inhaling the sweet
perfumes of flowers that I’ve grown for that very purpose.
Spritzing myself with a blend of citronella and cloves I go forth
into the evening. A fan is brought out to do double duty – deter all
flying bugs and keep us relatively comfortable in the circulating
air. The DEET spray is always on stand-by – it’s a love-hate
relationship.
At a party last week, I was introduced to a new anti-mosquito gadget
brought to the event for a test run by another friend. It seemed to
work as I was not bitten that evening. So I’ve purchased one for my
own use. Before I rush to endorse it, I shall use it a few times
first. Stay tuned.
To take advantage of the warmer months, I ease up on chores and find
myself slowing down my pace. More books are read, outdoor summer
concerts and plays replace screen-time almost entirely. It seems only
right to linger over al fresco meals and sip a cocktail or two slowly
as one walks around inspecting the garden. Impromptu picnics, sunset
viewings and star gazing stretch out the season. Time is taken to
savor the bounty from the garden and farm stand. I love to slowly
roast corn on the cob directly over the coals and then, with a
sprinkling of flakes of sea salt and a dusting of cayenne pepper
brightened with a splash of lime, it explodes in the mouth in a burst
of sweet, salty, spicy and sour. Divine. And how about a watermelon
salad tossed with fresh cherry tomatoes, feta and torn up basil? I
think I even eat ice cream more slowly and mindfully in summer than
at any other season.
While I’m reveling in the unhurried rhythm of summer, there is a
fair amount of guilt that shadows me. The garden looks like a small
child allowed to dress herself. Sweet but quite messy. I’m not
keeping up with the pace the plants grow and need deadheading,
staking and trimming. Weeds shoot up even as I work to keep them at
bay. The tiny lawn looks ragged beseeching me for a regular feed of
compost and the meadow quickly gets overrun by jewelweed smothering
out less aggressive but more desirable plants. Still consumed with
guilt, I’m determined to go on fully engaging with summer. It’s
all too short and I know I will regret it if I have too few memories
of it to keep me warm in winter.
And so I keep dancing with summer. Barefoot and guilty.
Note:Images of the neglected state of my garden – they should make you feel good about yours!
Wisteria in need of some grooming. But the geraniums divert your attention!Wall pots stragglingFoxgloves need deadheadingMeadow could use some thinning outGardenia ready to be picked for indoor enjoymentSanguisorba ‘Alba’ having its momentAsters waiting to be cut by one-third for better fall displayAcabthus in bloom but what’s that allium doing there?!The pretty astilbe are being hidden by the overgrown asters.
Gardeners are romantic. I have come to realize and accept this. In
making anything beautiful, it pretty much goes without saying (but
I’m saying) that one must also be romantic. You aren’t convinced?
Hmmm. Let me tell you how I’ve come to realize my own idealistic,
sentimental nature in action in the garden. You tell me if you’ve
never been similarly inclined.
I’ll start with the very poster child of romance. The rose. I love
them. I have included several in my garden – all in shades of pink,
profuse and preferably perfumed. The very display of roses in bloom
brings to the forefront matters of the heart. You absolutely cannot
see a rose and not think of love and romance. Am I right?
When I chose to place two arches and plant roses to scramble up them,
I envisioned something very traditional. The arch one must go through
to reach the front door was to invite and disarm the visitor. It puts
one in good cheer. The subtle fragrance sends an additional message
of welcome. The three different clematis weaving through this rose
takes the whole to a higher level. Pure romance.
The second arch which is a gateway to the gardens in the back, has a
different rose. Brighter in its rosy hue and with a stronger perfume.
It makes its presence felt long before you get near it. A temptation
to coax the curious to come forth.
A shrub rose I planted on the side path in early spring was chosen
for its prettiness, hardiness and its scent. The whole idea being
that its fragrance will waft into the house through the studio
windows just above and assault my senses in the nicest possible way
as I paint. I’d like to think my work can only be made better under
such influences.
In truth, one can smell the roses in all the rooms on that side of
the house. It makes me pause, inhale deeply and appreciate the aroma.
Life feels good. Similarly, I position the pots of citrus, jasmine
and gardenia on the side terrace so the night air is redolent with
their strong aromas – hopefully sweetening our dreams and slumber.
In
the herb garden, I included plants mentioned in Shakespeare’s
plays. Lovage, rue, hyssop, comfrey, foxgloves and such. Apart from
the lovage which pairs well with fish, the others merely look pretty
and remind me of earlier times. Hyssop while purported to soothe sore
throats, was popularly used
as a spiritual
bath. The hyssop bath is
usually considered to be a personal ritual to remove sin and
negativity in life. It has a Biblical significance. Rue means disdain
or regret. Comfrey too had a role in early medicine as a poultice to
treat joint pains. All so quaint and romantic right?
Even a feature like
the ‘meadow’ has an element of idealism and romance. It is a
place for congeniality between the native flora and fauna. Where
butterflies, birds and bees pollinate and populate my corner of
paradise. Life supporting life, all creatures living together in
peace and all is well with the world. What a concept!
The espalier of 27
apple and 5 pear trees hark back to a time when all of this
neighborhood was full of apple orchards. I like to think I’ve in
some way restored something precious to this place.
The pergola in the
back terrace was designed so the wisteria would grow over its top,
generously providing shade under which we can gather to break bread
and sip wine with friends and family as often as possible. And we do.
Idyllic escapes in a world gone mad.
And so it goes. I
see how in creating this garden, I have subconsciously let my inner
romantic guide me. It is about beauty, history, literature, harmony,
the sacred and most of all, love.
Now, how about you?
Note: Enjoy these romantic images!
View from the upstairs window boxesHyssopGardeniaCitrus
Humans have always known the
importance of being connected
to the natural world. Not simply for the obvious – food, shelter (
caves, construction materials), fuel and, medicine. We are inherently
aware that there is a deeper, spiritual relationship between us and
the plant kingdom. From using flowers/plants to mark every
significant event in our lives, returning our spent bodies to the
embrace of the earth, to adorning and anointing ourselves with
flowers, leaves, bark and roots for their perfume, cosmetic
properties in a bid to enhance our looks, the horticultural world is
intrinsic to our human-ness.
There is a plethora of anecdotal and
scientific evidence to support the positive effect of time spent
outdoors. Garden therapy is an accepted and valued method to heal all
sorts of human conditions – physical
and mental. Be it a stroll in the park, a hike in the woods,
puttering in the garden or just sitting quietly amidst some
greenery, a positive effect is palpably
felt. Lifting ones mood,
being physically energized after a stint out in nature is something
every one of us can relate to. Gardening
is empowering. To create something useful and beautiful is
transforming. There is even a
‘Gardens Without Borders’ effort to help refugees in camps and
war zones cope with their
circumstances. That’s plant
power.
Humans generally go about assuming
their position at the very top of the living world. I’m not certain
how we got to possess such hubris because in my experience, nothing
is more humbling than observing
nature closely as one does in
gardening. Before one assumes what we do outsideis the principal effector,
consider the plant community itself. What do we truly know about the
kingdom of plants?
We have generally assessed plants
from a very human perspective – how do they serve us? We regard
plants as being there for our specific purposes. And we are in
charge. Their very separation
from us and all animals to a kingdom of their own shows how we think
about plants. They are totally unlike us. But, are they really?
This past Saturday, I attended two
highly interesting talks/panel discussions. Both were events made
possible by the World Science Festival. The WSF takes place at this
time of year in New York City – five days chock full of talks and
discussions on all sorts of scientific topics. Leading scientists
from different parts of the world participate in these talks and
enlighten auditoriums packed with people
thirsting for answers and understanding the issues currently
affecting our lives. From cancer research to cosmic riddles to
climate change to contemplating the cerebrum as we know it. I’ve
been going to the WSF since it began about 11 years ago. I get
positively giddy with excitement going through the line-up of talks
and making my choices for the ones I’m most eager to attend.
This year, I chose two events that
were so closely related that I believe they should’ve been proposed
as a double feature. ‘Rethinking Thinking’ and
‘ Intelligence Without Brain’ were
my picks. Both were so interesting and certainly enlightening. The
take home is having a brain
and neurons is only one way
to think and navigating
life. And humans are not special at all
– we are just one form of life. Given my own background in
molecular biology, this was not surprising or hard to accept.
It was fascinating
to learn that even stuff like fungi and slime mold are capable
of communication,
problem solving and decision making.
More so than one can imagine. In
the animal kingdom, there is’ intelligence’
that parallels humans –
only in ways more suited to their own genus and/or species.
And when it comes to plants, they do so much more than we ever
thought possible!
In recent years, we have learned
that plants communicate by sending out chemical messages to warn,
commiserate about disease and other life conditions. On Saturday, I
found out that they make sounds via their roots! They have
voices. At this time, we don’t
know the how
or why. It’s
possible they can ‘talk’
above ground as well – we just don’t know how to test/hear them.
Yet. Cogitate
on that.
Going further, there is now data that plants can reason and remember. Yes, that’s right. This is all cutting edge scientific research and terribly thrilling. I won’t go into details and you don’t have to take my word for it as all the talks can be accessed at worldsciencefestival.com
So, circling back to my original commentary about how we are healed and invigorated by just being in the presence of plants. Perhaps, plants ‘silently’ comfort and/or treat our wounded selves in ways we are yet to determine or measure. They have after all been around so much longer than we humans and get this – the plant kingdom is 99% of all living forms found on earth. Surely then, it stands to reason that they know more than us. Stay tuned!
Here are some feel good images from the garden. Enjoy –
