In the beginning,
To distract from life,
Gardening was my sanctuary
Through a period of strife
Until, by gradual degree,
I found my way to recovery,
The simple business of playing with dirt
A peaceful way to heal the hurt.
Quiet contentment with few distractions
(Before discovering poetic redaction)
Communing with Nature, observing her ways,
This much-underrated, legitimate play
A gentle, healing restoration
To exercise my imagination-
Not that I’ve much creative intent
It’s more a meditative vent-
Returning to childhood in my endeavour
To marshal the land more playful than clever,
Loving the gift of just playing with dirt,
Making sure none of the beasties get hurt.
I’ve learned to respect the work of creatures
With even the most disarming features,
Gathering my nerve when it comes to the spiders-
Their scattering legs so easily divide us,
Though dew-spotted webs are a sight to observe,
Each shimmering structure so hard to preserve,
Woven with care and strong as steel,
shimmering with dew and folktale appeal.
Their reputation for terror’s misplaced
Given the work they do round the place.
Then there’s beetles, bugs and butterflies
Tempting the birds down from the skies,
Even in my tiny garden
I would have to beg their pardon
Seeing at close quarter the Sisyphean brief
Of maintaining soil, bud, flower and leaf:
A team endeavour of complexity
That completely and utterly fascinates me,
So I try my best to do my bit
(Often making more of a mess of it)
‘Trial and improvement’ the heart of my practice
With everything from veg to cactus…



*Absolutley no illusions of grandeur!

http://www.gardenersworld.com/    -lightly stepping over my own lack of finesse!


-other sources of information are probably available…




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