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tending boundaries. [kerri’s blog on k.s. friday]

the gardens on the side of the backyard where barney is are not fancy, but they are lush. they are full of daylilies and ornamental grasses, three peonies and a volunteer hosta or two. it is the side of the yard where squirrels scamper and hide with stolen cherry tomatoes, finches and house sparrows and cardinals gleefully dine on birdseed, barney ages into mellow beauty with wild geranium at its feet. back in the corner there is an old firepit with burgeoning red salvia, surrounded by dwarf sedge grasses, a few dark green-leafed hosta, and one struggling pampas grass by the back fence. when it all gets away from us, there are a few weeds scattered into this garden, a little more wild than the rest but well-loved nonetheless. with a very few exceptions, all of these plants in this side garden have been generous gifts from others – from their own gardens or purchased at nurseries for us – and we value and cherish each and every one.

we also value and cherish peace, so the metal peace sign we purchased at a garden shop in the little town a smidge north from where dogga was born is an ideal addition to this wild and verdant garden.

one of our neighbors needed to clear off some vine from the garage that runs along the second half – the further half – of this garden. naturally, granting permission for access to our yard, he came equipped to do the job – with a ladder and a bucket and snippers and bio-bags. as they are avid gardeners i did not feel like i needed to be out there, managing his work. we were keeping dogga inside during his task on this sunny day and so i did glance out the window often to monitor his progress.

watching him step – with both feet and sans any sensitive awareness – over the little garden edge-fencing into our garden and directly onto our daylilies – crushing them – was shocking. he moved around in our garden, his foot placement of no apparent concern to him.

i did not go outside to admonish him. i just couldn’t believe what he was doing. i guess i didn’t want to create conflict, but i was most certainly feeling the conflict.

when he was done, the brick of their garage was clear of vine, but our little garden next to barney was trampled. the daylilies lay on the ground, their fronds broken. there was no mention of any harm done to them, no apology, no contrition whatsoever.

i couldn’t help but wonder why it was that our garden was not good enough to protect in his effort to take care of his own property.

i couldn’t help but wonder what he would have done had i literally traipsed all over one of his gardens.

i couldn’t help but wonder – after – why i did not go outside and demand that he stop immediately and to be please be careful.

at what price is keeping the peace?

fancy or not, our garden counted. whatever was this disregard? i literally cried looking at our flattened lilies, what was lush and standing now mushed on the ground.

and, mostly, i was utterly upset with myself. in an effort to not stir the pot, i allowed this man to enter my yard – and to be ruinous – and i did not stop him or hold him accountable.

and that is not ok.

we mustn’t just stand back and allow any single person – or, for that matter, any administration – to crush that which is ours. we mustn’t permit others to run over us, to expect us to grant them undeserved or undue authority or accommodate any higher priority in which they cast themselves (or is it “caste” themselves?), to trample any part of the precious home we have created.

that is not peace.

peace: a state of harmony marked by the absence of hostility, violence or mental anxiety.

relational peace: treating other people with respect and kindness

global peace: respecting the earth and all living things

every bit of what happened here translates – from the smallest act of irreverent ruin to the most heinous – lack of respect is lack of respect. where is the line?

and now, we will be tending what-were-our-intrepid-daylilies, our boundaries, and the loss of a bit of our peace, hoping for them all to come back.

*****

BOUNDARIES © 2010 kerri sherwood

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coleus-rich. [kerri’s blog on two artists tuesday]

it was $2.49. it sat in the midst of lots of other tiny coleus plants, on sale. the colors spoke to us and, though we weren’t planning on potting a coleus, we couldn’t resist the sale. this little plant has literally done better than any other plant we have purchased this year, including the two sweet potato vines we have placed on ladders – which usually rock, but have been just too inundated with rain and heat this year.

just goes to show you that something doesn’t have to be really expensive in order for it to be exquisite.

the color patterns on this coleus remind me of things you did as a kid: when you put celery in a tall glass and added water and food coloring. then you watched the food dye climb up the xylem of the stalk. or maybe when you went to summer rec and made cool tie-dye t-shirts (when you weren’t making braided plastic-lacing lanyards).

we spent time on the deck studying our plants and potting stand. the weather has really taken a toll on our herbs and tomatoes. they will likely not last until the bitter end of summer this year, which is too bad in a season when you can’t feel comfortable with store-bought parsley or basil or cilantro or, well, many produce items. or eggs. or bacon. or beef. or granola. or – the big one – lettuce. it all makes one’s head spin…so we are sad to have a garden that is diminishing too soon.

our coleus, however, is apparently going to gleefully hang out for a while. one piece that broke off from strong winds in a thunderstorm is inside in a jar of water. it has rooted and we’ll plant it, hoping to carry the happy coleus into the fall and beyond.

we budgeted and planned for our potting stand and went a bit over, having to replace a few herbs along the way. the extra was fine with us – we can cut back somewhere else – for we find this little garden a joy. and in the middle of the salmonella-e.coli-cyclospora scares, we have been grateful for access to its harvest. though the produce return-on-investment may not be the same as buying bulk produce or herbs at the store, harvesting our own has – once again – inspired us. and this year – in particular – it kept us from buying anything worrisome. maybe next year we will add a few more veggies to our garden. maybe a galvanized raised garden or two.

in the meanwhile – between the time that the potting stand no longer produces and the time we plant again – in fall and winter as we plot a new crop of plants and think about the possibility of a farmstand subscription (CSA), we will glance over at our indoor coleus and remember the riches of this summer – even the ones that were just $2.49.

*****

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how one comes to the table. [kerri’s blog on flawed wednesday]

the plants are stressed. you can see it. there are yellowing leaves, limp branches, tiny fruits. even the sweet potato vine is doing a dance for survival with the intense heat and humidity, storms and wind.

we are trying to be vigilant as we take care of all of them – the ones on the potting stand and on the deck. i carefully try to determine if they need more water or less water, more sun or more shade, a little fertilizer. this is not an exact science, i find, and i am not necessarily an intuitive gardener. i do, however, come to the table with good intentions, wanting all our plants to flourish and have all the nutrients and circumstances they need to thrive.

i imagine that the growing season on our potting stand will end sooner this year than we wish it to. even so, we will have totally enjoyed its cherry tomatoes, basil, jalapeños, cilantro, parsley, chives and mint. i wonder if next year we will try a few new veggies or herbs. (had we not already tried lettuce, i would think that might be a good choice – since lettuce is on the do-not-fly list these days.)

in the “weird things category for 100”, we are now washing our produce again. after we get home from the grocery store, we have gone back to taking out the large stainless steel salad bowl, filling it with water and scrubbing everything with the vegetable brush. it harkens us back to the pandemic – and not in a good way. those memories are filled with stress and the grief of separation from others, too many devastating stories for all of us to have to go back in any way.

frustrated by lettuce-and-so-many-other-things, i feel like the leaders of our government should come to the table with intelligent solutions and goodness, instead of self-centered rapacious destruction and chaos, so much of which is cruel. we need clean water, clean air and clean food as the most basic of things – the most basic of our good health – yet there is some serious intentional undermining of all of that by this administration. and so, more trauma.

we are witness to the shedding of authentic responsibility these days when people in power are asked to come to the table. though there are those of us who come to the table in good faith – with the intent to do the right thing, to navigate together – there are others who absolutely absolve themselves of any culpability and come to the table empty-handed and empty-hearted. nothing can grow in that space.

the squirrel somehow discovered that we had a few tomato plants. we watched him upside down in the tomato cage, plucking choice cherry tomatoes off the plant. he then scampered – tomato sticking out of his mouth – to the fence, where he perched and munched on his snack. and then, he repeated the whole thing all over again. his intent was clear. he was a hungry-bunny squirrel and gave no illusions of minding boundaries – the ones between what was his and what was ours.

the thing is, we really don’t expect squirrels to be mindful that way. we don’t expect them to be respectful or to honor others or observe any kind of discipline. squirrels are not goody-two-shoes.

people – on the other hand – have every capability to be straight arrows. we expect them – particularly those who have been given authority, those who are supposed to hold the high regard of others, those who have decision-making power – to come to the table with good intention, wanting all to flourish and having all the nutrients and circumstances that all – ALL – need to thrive.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this WEDNESDAY

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mighty garden. [kerri’s blog on not-so-flawed wednesday]

it is a mighty garden.

built from a couple planks of old barn wood and some galvanized pipe, its possibilities were endless. tucked into a corner of the backyard, cozied up between the edge of the deck and the fence, every day this mighty garden called my name.

not so mighty in size, it was wildly enormous in delivering zen. with a pair of clippers in my hand and a watering wand waiting nearby, i spent hours through this summer tending this garden.

and it has rewarded us with jalapeños and cherry tomatoes, basil and mint and rosemary and cilantro and parsley. nothing you can’t purchase at a market, but there is something about growing right outside your kitchen, a few steps across the deck, through a wrought iron gate from the patio.

we continue to harvest from this potting stand. we’ll see it through to the last of the herbs, the last of the peppers and tomatoes, all the while planning a bit more for next year. success begets trying some new things. we planted in previous years – and there was a yield of herbs, a few tomatoes, a handful of peppers – but there was something a bit different about this year.

and this was the year we needed it.

somehow, the universe – in all its energy and light – knew that this was the time. a time for us to invest our own energy and attention into growing things. not just grasses or ferns or peonies or a few other flowers, but things that would nourish us, things that would connect the dots from dirt to our kitchen.

a gift of growing at a time when growth – real, human, throw-out-your-arms-and-hold-all-the-world-close growth – seems to be shunned, devalued, debased.

it has been mighty.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this NOT-SO-FLAWED WEDNESDAY

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cabbage fields. [two artists tuesday]

in the age-old tale of things-are-often-not-as-they-appear, this beautiful almost-transparent white moth flits from lavender bloom to lavender bloom. in certain moments it is even hard to see, its translucent wings disappearing and then glinting in the sunlight. against the dark background of the deck, it is easier to see as it feeds on the nectar of these deep purple blossoms. it’s a cabbage white butterfly. and it is likely responsible for the tiny holes in the tomato plant leaves. it’s fortunate we do not have a cabbage patch as these little guys have the capacity to destroy it. such a beautiful little creature and so much potential for destruction of goodness.

i’m writing this (ahead) on a rainy sunday morning and it’s too easy on sundays for my mind (and heart) to jaunt over to the things-are-not-what-they-appear heading.

this translucent butterfly has specific markings (a black spot on the upward front side of its wings), a specific size just over an inch, markings that depict the gender, making it easier to identify and, if necessary, prevent or eradicate the damage it can do to a hard-earned crop. if it were to look like any other butterfly – or say, a beautiful monarch – it would be much more difficult for gardeners to recognize the peril, much more difficult for farmers to stand firm and work at keeping the crops safe that they have nourished so carefully, for so long, with so much dedication.

sitting on the deck watching this butterfly flit about, the sunlight catching its gentle wings here and there, i never suspected it might be at the root of the problem i am experiencing late in the season now with our cherry tomatoes. under a cloak of not-knowing and not-asking-enough-questions or googling enough, i didn’t know to point at this gentle creature. but the act of googling has given me information. i can look for larvae on the tomato leaves and examine the damage with a plan for it.

were it to be a full field of cabbage, like out in the county here, it would seem imperative to act upon this. a whole field of cabbage – a field of potential abundance – can be destroyed by the existence of something that people might never question. research says an infestation of the cabbage white butterfly caterpillar can destroy all cabbage growth, and prevention is said to be imperative to avoid the ruinous nature of such an aggressor. that way “you’ll have less work and damage later on.”

this butterfly has been here since the 1860s so its presence seems pretty solid and unshakable. i guess you have to pay attention to damage being wreaked around you in your tiny tomato garden, delve into it, gather information, ask questions and stop the quiet chaos from happening.

it’s easier when the wings are transparent, when the markings easily identifiable and when the community of gardeners and farmers are seeking the goodness of the cabbage field.

metaphors are everywhere.

*****

read DAVID’S thoughts this TWO ARTISTS TUESDAY