When the winds of change blow, some people build walls and others build windmills. – Chinese proverb

As always, my gardening life is concomitant with all other aspects of life.

It has been a season for changes. As much as one is told that change is inevitable, one is never ready. Mainly because, we don’t know what, when or, how this will come to be. So we plod along and then come to a halt when things go awry. It then stands to reason that flexibility is key. Just as the pliable bamboo is able to withstand fierce storms better than the rigid oak, our minds need to react to unforeseen events with a certain elasticity.

It began this year with my ‘checkerboard’ garden. When this garden was first designed and planted, it was spectacular. But over the years, it was not quite so and by last year, it was distinctly ratty looking. The creeping phlox ( P.subulata) was struggling. This was because the area was now shadier as the surrounding trees had grown. A suitable substitute had to be found. I decided on woodland phlox ( P. divaricata) which is often also called creeping phlox. And while I was going to rip up the old plants, it made sense to re-level the whole space which had shifted with the vagaries of chipmunks who had set up home beneath this raised area. With the pressure of Open Day just a few days away, this garden was completely overhauled. I will know next year how this rethinking has worked. I hope the new plants thrive and bloom their heads off next spring. In any case, a change in this garden was much overdue.

The vertical garden was another place needing some change. A number of ferns had not made it to spring. I don’t think it was the harsh winter that did them all in. I suspect it was the breakdown of the self-watering system when we were away last August that killed off some of them. Intense heat and no water is quite the death sentence for a fern. So while we’re still fine tuning the watering system, I decided to introduce assorted Heuchera into the fern mix. I must say, it looks quite lovely. Once again, while no one was home, the system failed and some areas of ferns look ragged if not clearly done for. But the Heuchera still look good. This vertical garden is still evolving and demands that elasticity of mind as well as a good measure of tenacity.

The aforementioned gardens are big projects but there have been a few smaller ones. Unexpectedly, this past June, I had to go to India for several weeks. Till the very last minute I took care of all the garden chores and I gave the family detailed instructions on its regular upkeep. And then I had to let go. Other business was more pressing. I tried not to fret about the garden and was reassured that chores were being done.

It was with a touch of apprehension that I returned. Although there was a great sense of joy in coming home, as soon as I stepped out of the car, I saw the brick walkway bursting with weeds. The window boxes above were gasping their last. And, the front perennial beds were in sore need of some restraint. I couldn’t even dream of seeing the rest of the garden. I’d be lying if I say I was not disheartened. Yet, I was aware of how the family had done their best to take care of matters for which I was very grateful. They’d also been busy with other things and had not quite registered my instructions with its implicit gravitas. I was proud of myself for not saying anything because I know I’d have deeply regretted it. Everybody had tried to the best of their ability. Besides, these problems were mighty fixable.

It would’ve been amazing if I could’ve come back to a pristine garden. But that would be absurd. My garden is never pristine. Even under my own watch. It really was up to my ability to go with the flow. No getting worked up. To accept and adjust to the disruption of plans and agendas. It was a simple matter of things being different from the way I do them. So thats what I did. To the betterment of all.

The walkway was weeded, the window-box plantings replaced and the perennials given a severe, summer trimming. Voilà! A neater, cared for look has emerged. I do however hold Mother Nature responsible for the way the lawn looks. Similarly, other areas of the garden are getting due attention. Meanwhile, criticisms were kept in check and feelings remain unhurt.

This spring and summer, I have learned a great deal. About myself, about those close to me and about life in general. Once again, the garden played a vital teaching role. I hope I have grown and that like the kite that rises with the wind, I too will rise with every wind of change that blows my way.

The original phlox garden.

The new phlox garden

Enjoy the array of window boxes:

(c) 2013 Shobha Vanchiswar

 Well, well, well. So Oprah has caught the gardening bug big time. This can only mean good news. I foresee many thousands (dare I say hundreds of thousands?) joining the gardening bandwagon. This, in my opinion, translates to better use of our land, an improvement to the appearance of otherwise ho-hum properties and certainly a healthier approach to eating. Fresh, organic, homegrown vegetables and fruits will be downright fashionable. Again.

Everybody I know wants to do better by their own health as well as the health of the planet. Yet, only a small percentage actually puts into practice this desire. For whatever reason, be it the pressures of time, space, work, laziness etc., there is more talk and less action. Till along comes a “role model”.

When it comes to doing the right thing, why is it that it does not happen naturally? Our minds already know what we should do but we don’t act on that. Instead, we wait till some celebrity shows up to inform us what he/she is doing and then all of a sudden we are ‘in’. Counter-intuitively, humans are ever willing to follow the wrong people. A quick once over of our collective history will testify to that. Why, oh why do we insist upon letting a select few dictate how we should live?

Humans are herd animals. We follow. Such as it is, I am then deeply appreciative of all those who choose to lead by good example. What so ever they might be. I’m glad when we, as a whole, read more, stand up for injustice, get more exercise, care for our planet simply because the matters were brought to our attention by a person(s) with some public influence. The fact that in every case there are real, qualified experts who are present to inform and instruct is incidental. To find these ‘quiet’ leaders requires some deep digging, some sincere listening, some serious thinking. That is too much work. We prefer star power. We need dazzle.

If one tends a piece of land, one is likely to care about the world at large. Every aspect of how we live becomes of significant consequence. Clean living becomes routine.

In our recent times, Martha made all types of gardening cool. Many followed her. Then, Michelle showed us that growing one’s own vegetables was chic and still more joined in. Better yet, our children opted in. And now, there is Oprah. This should have a sizable impact. I hope. Tending to our land, feeding ourselves and participating in the joys of working in nature is at once a most basic act and yet one of high calling. As a gardener, I am naturally an optimist. I have high hopes for how well the public embraces Oprah’s gardening message.

We don’t all have to be leaders. We cannot be. But those whom we choose to follow must be identified and selected with great thought and attention. Leaders abound. Good ones and bad. Great ones are scarce. Lets choose wisely.

Now, go forth and give gardening your best shot. You won’t regret it. Never mind me, Martha, Michelle and Oprah say so.

Pears await plucking

Potager of a French chateau

Indian gourd

Leafy greens

Onion harvest

Swiss chard. Even a pot can be a vegetable garden.

Page Dickey’s wonderful potager

Tomato teepees

(c) 2013 Shobha Vanchiswar

Deep summer is when laziness finds respectability. ~Sam Keen

Every year I have a yearning to beef up my summer garden. Spring is covered pretty well and things look good into July. But come August, and there emerges a disheveled, ragged garden. It is not particularly interesting. Certainly, parts of the garden look decent enough to fool the casual once over but on closer inspection it is simply not up to the season.

There ought to be more in bloom to provide summer flamboyance. A little control is called for to keep things from looking too messy. The grass appears parched and the weeds are on steroids. It is all a bit disenchanting.

Yet, I do nothing. Lazy? Perhaps. But that is not entirely the reason. It has more to do with trying to live in the moment. Summer is when we give ourselves permission to ease up a little. Let go of agendas and give in to impulse. For two months of a whole year, we rediscover our carefree selves. Bare feet memorize the feel of cool, textured grass. Taste buds savor sun ripened tomatoes. The body sways in tune with the hammock. Fireflies replace the flicker of television. How then could I possibly pull myself away from such pleasures and get serious with the garden?

If the summer perennials I wanted were available in early spring, I’d probably place them in my garden. But that is never the case. They arrive well after I’m immersed in the season’s gentle pastimes. The next opportunity is the fall but by then, I’m in a state of denial. The summer garden is just fine – I tell nobody in particular as I go about cleaning up the garden and adding more spring bulbs.

Finally, in the midst of winter when I crave all things garden and pore over photographs taken through the previous year, do I see how once again, I have failed to accomplish that brilliant summer garden that exists only in my mind. And so the cycle continues.

I invariably feel overcome with guilt for such blatant negligence. But, not anymore. I’ve decided to forgive myself in advance. Summer is too short a season. As ephemeral as the fireflies that fill it.

Summer flowers

Agapanthus

(c) 2013 Shobha Vanchiswar

After what seemed to be an interminably long, harsh winter, it is finally spring. Hallelujah! Yet now, I feel as though I can’t quite keep up with the accelerated pace of this much awaited season. While I’m inclined to linger and delight in seeing the various signs of the emerging spring, I’m acutely cognizant of the tasks that await my attention in the garden. Each day reveals how rapidly the garden is coming alive. It is as though I’m watching the progress of a large scale painting in a time-compressed film.

While the garden is on fast forward, I get the sense that I’m being left behind. It is a bit overwhelming and tremendously annoying. After all, I’m the one who waited with great anticipation and joy for the arrival of this beautiful, highly popular friend. I made all the arrangements and plans to give her a proper welcome. Now that she has arrived, I’m barely given any of her time. The friend is off mingling and being the center of worldly attention while I’m left holding the trowel. So utterly unfair.

I cannot bear feeling this way. Thus, true to my nature, I decide to get a grip. I am not going to deprive myself of reveling in the season. Nor am I going to let myself be overcome by the rather daunting list of chores to be addressed. I’m a seasoned gardener I remind myself. So garden already!

I sit down to write my famed master list. Although the number of tasks are many and some quite physically demanding, I know they will get done. It is the fact that the garden must be visitor-ready for the Open Day on May 25th that makes it a matter of some urgency. In the process of getting organized, I find the list I made last year. The date on it indicates I am a whole month behind this year. The tediously long winter has set me back considerably. With a deficit of four weeks, it is no wonder I’m feeling the pressure! Just then I look out the window to see a cardinal perched on the sugar maple that is fast putting out its own red tinted plumage. I can sense my muscles begin to relax.

Ah, so it is not my fault but the hand of nature – this realization is a relief and empowering in a way. It always feels good to have something or somebody else to blame don’t you agree? List completed, I assign the items to days on the calender. Taking into consideration the time required, availability of help ( in my case my family) and other non-horticultural obligations, I put every chore down. When I’m done scribbling all over the calender, I’m pleasantly surprised to note that in spite of all that busyness, I have time every single day to luxuriate in the season. Some days offer up only a few minutes and some give much more. It is all up to me to avail of this gift. No matter the quantity of time, the benefits of letting nature nurture me will go a long way in my well being. I remind myself that I must never let anything get in the way.

If you are reading this, I know you feel as I do. So, make yourself a promise to partake of natures bountiful wonders on a daily basis. Observe what is in bloom, what smells good, what sounds you hear. This focus will be a meditation of sorts. I promise, you will feel wonderful. Together we will approach the rest of our busy schedules with equanimity and can-do-ness.

Remember, there will always be chores but the crocus will bloom but once each year.

Signs Of Spring:

Cornelian cherry – one of the first to awaken.

Crocus breaking through last years leaves.

A doves nest with 2 perfect eggs

Star magnolia in bud

Pear blossoms

Daffodil

Hellebores

Busy As A Bee

If one were to ask a bee if it was busy,
I wonder if it would agree.
After all, the bee buzzes
as it minds its own business
Sublimely unaware of other purposes.

Gardening season has just begun and already I’m hearing the classic defense. What is this “ I’m crazy busy” badge of honor we wear so proudly? Does it imply a preoccupation to be envied or does it beg for pity because the busy one has no time for anything else? There is a distinct note of self-importance implicit in that “I’m very busy” line. I think it has become an easy excuse to explain away ones lack of varied pursuits and interests. Instead of honestly saying ‘no’ to a request, we hide behind ‘busy’. Rather than stick ones neck out to try something new and risk looking foolish if one should fail, we’re much safer being busy with the same old. “I can’t be bothered” is what “I’m very busy” often means. In that case, just say so! And the worst of it is that at one time or other, we’re all guilty of this refrain. Undeniably there are times when a situation takes over and other things are consequently neglected. But being in a perennial state of busy-ness that precludes matters that one admits to being of some relevance indicates that something is off kilter. An imbalanced life.

How can a person who is too busy to start a vegetable garden have the time to watch every episode of Judge Judy? Or for that matter, why is having children a reason to not have time to garden? It is the perfect time! Children can never be too young to be taken into the garden. They watch and learn more effectively than we can ever measure. I remember securing my baby in her bouncy seat and keeping her by my side as I weeded. I’d talk about what I was doing, offer her a whiff of a fragrant flower, run a velvety leaf of lamb’s ears up her arm and watch her sigh with pleasure. As I moved to weed another bed, I’d just pick up the seat with baby and take her along. As she got older, she learned to first deadhead and then graduated to weeding. In turn, I learned to unwind during her nap time. Catch a few winks, read a few pages or add a few more brush strokes to an emerging watercolor. When both of us were refreshed, we’d go into the garden. I got the hang of not being too busy and understood the benefits of an ‘unbusy’ life.

Try this experiment. Pick a day to get totally unplugged. I know, you’re thinking about the kids not getting a hold of you or the world falling apart. Well, for just this one day ask them to call another responsible adult in case of an emergency. Promise not to check emails, browse the Internet, answer the phone, look at a tweet or turn on the television. Don’t panic; it is for just one, measly day. You are still physically available if so needed. Now, use your time to do whatever you deem necessary, interesting or pending. It could be tackling the laundry, finishing the crossword, having lunch with a friend, preparing a new garden bed. No matter the task, be mindful about doing it well. It’ll be easier than you think as you’ve already eliminated the usual distractions and time guzzlers. At the end of the day, you’ll find that the world functioned quite smoothly without you and you got plenty done. It is rather sobering to discover that we aren’t missed so much. As long as you keep telling everybody that you are up front and center, they will pass on all sorts of responsibilities on to you. This just makes you overbooked. It does not mean you are indispensable.

Gardeners are some of the most active people I know. Not because they appear to be mucking about endlessly in the garden, but because they are invariably engaged in life as a whole. My totally unscientific but highly personal observations lead me to think that the lessons revealed by working in nature, inspire and empower the gardener to try many other things. Writing, designing, cooking, participating in causes both local and global, the list grows. In essence, we grow as our plants grow. And, along the way, like the bee, we don’t ask ourselves if we’re busy. We simply go about our business.

For myself, curiosity is fostered in the garden and then transposed onto other areas of life. Nature’s handiwork in pairing certain colors together translates to my wardrobe and interior decorating. The beauty of the flowers shows up in my watercolors. Fresh produce goes directly into innovative recipes. Naturally occurring patterns and shapes like that of fiddle-head ferns, centers of sunflowers, trumpets of daffodils, barks of trees are all fodder for numerous design projects. When the birds are building nests, I thoroughly clean and tidy mine. The garden is my muse for living well.

I want my days filled with creativity, productivity and lots of joy. However, I never want to be so busy as to fall short of my own expectations and potential. And, I always have time to stop and smell the roses.

There is art, science, engineering, music, philosophy, and pure fun in the garden. So create more unbusy time and get outside. Get some dirt under your fingernails, color in your cheeks and a good dose of inspiration. No need to thank me. I’m just happy you made the time.

Bark pattern that looks like an abstract watercolor.

Moss on bark – watercolor

Fiddlehead shape of a dried ornamental grass.

Watercolor of carrots

Romano Cauliflower – perfect design

(c)2013 Shobha Vanchiswar