Stillness 7-30: In the spring I made a conscious decision not to weed this year. I had several sort-of reasons, but the most interesting one was curiosity. What would my garden look like if it was left to its own naturalness? What seeds that had been blown my way would take root and blossom? What rocks would gleam in the rain? What elemental beings would show up because they knew my garden was safe from culling, uprooting, and clearing?
The result has been a non-gardening summer of extraordinary joy. Instead of guilt or dismay, I look on the masses of Queen Anne’s lace frothing on the small bank in front of my house with delight. I am happily bewildered by lupine, surprising daisies, calendula, sage, lilies, and the blue of cornflowers that takes my breath away.
I feel as though I am in a happy painting. The experience of such abundance is sheer enjoyment. Why did I spend so many years allowing myself to venture into my yard with the sinking sensation of “uh-oh—weeds are out of control” that I used to feel every July. It is sheer bliss not to always feel the need to tug a weed or cover up in gloves and hot clothes for the clean-up of a supposed “messy” yard.
I’ve had gardens in many places in the world, and seen all kinds, from the simple Zen gardens of Kyoto, to elaborate English gardens on vast estates where ever inch is planned and planted, to the opulent terraced gardens of a villa in Tuscany, spilling their vibrant colors over the hilltops, to the avocados and mango trees that shaded our bungalow in the south seas …
But never have I had a garden that has told me what it wants to do and where it want to go. This summer all I do is listen. I wait. I watch. I encourage. I walk through overgrown paths and leafy hedges with amusement and amazement. I admire the masses of unknown ground-coverings that spill their riches over everything and tumble into crevasses, hillocks, and by the side of my drive in flourishing enthusiasm. My heart relaxes into splashes of color, into deep emerald, into lushness.
We all have “shoulds” in our lives, and most of them are over-rated. It never occurred to me that I could let a garden grow of its own accord. I thought it was like not washing up—the kitchen would become a mass of dirty pots and pans. But guess what I discovered? In my garden, the more plants and flowers that grow, the prettier my yard becomes!
Choose a long-accepted “should” in your life. Do you feel you “should” do something because if you did it you would smile, laugh, stretch, and relax your heart? If it doesn’t do that for you, let it go. Stop doing it, at least for a while. You might be surprised at what happens. You might be amazed by the freedom you feel.
Best of all, even in the heart of the summer, we are vaguely aware that autumn does come, and then winter does as well, and the garden returns to earth. The teeming life that has grown around me now will eventually subside and fall sleep and be gone. So really there is nothing I have to do right now except enjoy the intense beauty, wild colors, shapes, and forms, and the intoxicating fragrances of my wild, naturalistic garden.