Of Gardens, Gore and Good Ideas

He won! Was there any doubt that he would? Al Gore of course. The Nobel Peace Prize for 2007! But then many of us thought he would win eight years ago. Perhaps this 'win' is for the greater good. Still, part of me wonders where we would be right now if he had been named president....but I can't dwell on that. What I can dwell on is his Current TV and some of the videos and information coming out of that project. Such as this exciting one featuring an ecovillage in Tennessee! Gardeners take note, some of these things we can try in our own little back yards.

Cultivating Delight

In a previous blog I mentioned my delight in a turn of phrase, new perspectives and book discussions -- among other things. But books and writing truly excite me and none more exciting than a recent read: Cultivating Delight: A Natural History of My Garden by Diane Ackerman.

On her website, she's described as an 'intellectual sensualist' -- exactly what I strive for in my own writings, but fall short. Ackerman's ability to create a scene, instill it with details for all of the senses, provide information beyond superficial, adding to what you thought you already knew about any topic, makes you fall in love with whatever she describes.

The Internet Writing Workshop's creative nonfiction list are discussing an essay Clothes Encounters by Donna Milmore that appeared in The Boston Globe's Coupling column. The simplicity and tone of both writings convey issues that speak to our souls. Milmore tells of recovering from the sudden death of her husband and Ackerman discusses deer surviving the winter and her relationship to them. When speaking of survival and love, simplicity certainly works best.

Ackerman takes her opening essay beyond the garden wall in her first sentence: "I plan my garden as I wish I could plan my life, with islands of surprise, color, and scent...."

And closes on a note of hope:

"Nurturing...gardeners are eternal optimists who trust the ways of nature and
believe passionately in the idea of improvement....Small wonder a gardener plans
her garden as she wishes she could plan her life."

[Photo at Hollis Gardens, Lakeland, FL by Derrol Goldsmith]

Fresh veggies

It takes so little to make us happy.

After returning to work following a refreshing holiday, we came home to fix a simple meal and relax. With hamburgers sizzling on the grill -- the new grill, quite a step up from the little $30 charcoal grill bought before Clinton was president -- I picked a few veggies from our garden.

Cucumbers, green beans, tomatoes, green onions, a bit of basil, nothing beats fresh picked. Nothing. And the joy of raising these little goodies. And growing enough to share with neighbors and friends. Priceless.

Our little 4x8-foot garden sets just off the screened in porch. We enjoy looking out at the lush foliage. Just seeing their greenness brings a smile to my face, eases the day's tensions, reminds me that nurturing something or someone rewards the nurturer as much as the object of their attention.

We watch each little flower develop. And then wait for it to turn into 'fruit' or in this case veggies. So big and beautiful, and producing new life that we can eat and grow healthy. What a delightful life cycle.

If only growing healthy was as easy as eating our vegetables.

My garden, my home

Photo by Dawn Goldsmith

We are trying to grow a family, maintain a family. But hundreds of miles separate my husband and I from our sons.

Missing my babies, my now grown sons, hits me suddenly and I look for something familiar. Something I can hold on to. Something that brings me close to them, reminds me of the places we called home when they were babies, and boys and still sticking their heads in the refrigerator looking for a snack, or dropping their wet towels on the bathroom floor or sitting at the kitchen table wanting to talk with their mom.

No, they did not spend time with me working in the garden. They avoided that as strenuously as they avoided eating many of the veggies we grew. But the garden itself is a familiar place.

The green onions in my Florida garden look like the ones we grew when we lived in Ohio or Illinois. The green peppers, tomatoes, green beans -- they stand in lovely rows as they did in each garden we planted through the years regardless of geography.

And looking at those plants, smelling their individual scents, touching their leaves and fruit -- I am transported to wherever my boys reside at whatever stage they were at. At whatever stage I am missing them the most at that particular moment.

I miss my babies. My men. My family. I need something that will give me hope that someday we can all be together, reconnected. Sharing memories and making some new ones.

The tomatoes are getting big. The beans are blooming. The cucumber plants have baby pickles. And all of this growth and change and ripening gives me hope. This moment shall pass and good things, good times, family times lie ahead, if I am just patient and continue to nurture what is growing right now.

I can't take my eyes off my garden, even when tears blur the image and my heart longs for my children. The tomatoes are getting big, the beans are blooming, baby pickles grow on the cucumber plants and someday soon my sons and I will hold each other close. Someday soon.

The tomatoes are growing big....