As one might expect, most of the plants had completely wilted and died back after the last few weeks of sub-freezing temperatures, so it was clear that nature was “taking its course” and had moved the garden into a period of wintertime rest. However, I still sensed a kind of incompletion, similar to the feeling I get when I hear a piece of music stop right before the final, resting chord. The garden’s energy felt like it was “left hanging.” I turned to Machaelle Small Wright’s Perelandra Garden Workbook* for some insight into what I was experiencing:

…since the [co-creative] garden is by definition a creation between humans and nature, it is quite reasonable to assume that all aspects of the blueprint have built in the dynamic of teamwork between the two. This includes the closing-down portion as well. (p. 232)

OK, this makes sense. I planned and planted the garden in concert with nature intelligences, so it’s just not logical (and not fair!) to leave all of the final work to nature. And then I read a bit farther:

The closing down of the garden is primarily an exercise in energy, in that what is being done establishes an overall dynamic of attitude and intent for the benefit of the garden environment as a whole…this important attitudinal energy is infused into the environment. It is an energy infusion through the vehicle of purposeful action. (p.233)

Oh, goodness; that’s it. Not only is my physical action required to effectively put the garden to bed, but the energy of my intention is also an indispensable necessity. This absolutely explains my experience of the garden waiting for that final chord to sound. When we’re waiting for those last notes, it’s an energetic imbalance, or insufficiency, that we feel — and then we pitch forward in our seats, as if our bodies are begging for the tonic resolution. Until I did my part to put the garden to bed — until I engaged in that purposeful action that the co-creative garden (and gardener) truly needs — I could feel the garden’s own off-kilter pitch in response to the energetic insufficiency. I am grateful to have sensed that imbalance, and I am thrilled to have finally, blissfully sounded the final notes in our co-created garden-symphony.

* Wright, Machaelle Small, Garden Workbook: Complete Guide to Gardening with Nature Intelligences, 2nd Edition (1993). Perelanda, Ltd.

Image courtesy of and copyright (c) WIRED.com

Many thanks to my friend and subscriber to this blog, Balsam, for passing along a tidbit on the WIRED website about an honest-to-goodness, true “green” building. Designer Patrick Blanc has been gardening since childhood, but — for a twist — always vertically. Now all grown up, he’s taken vertical gardening out of his bedroom and onto the sides of large, urban structures. Amazing!

Jump to this WIRED article, read more about Blanc’s buildings, and take a look at the fabulous images of his latest project (a London building, pictured here) and other structures in France, Spain and elsewhere: http://www.wired.com/culture/art/magazine/17-09/pl_design.

As Balsam said in her note to me, she had a vision that NYC might one day look like this. I certainly hope that Patrick Blanc will cross the pond and go vertically green in the Big Apple sooner rather than later.

I’ve already identified all the plant varieties and the seeds are on order (the Burpee ones have arrived!). The next step is connecting with all the plant devas to determine whether the seeds are to be sown directly into the garden or in flats and then transplanted later, and also to schedule when the seeds or transplants are to be planted in the garden. With individual devic action, it feels like it’ll be July before we’ve got this all planned out — yet alone planted. Enter a new idea (at least for me): devic group action.

I will open a working connection with the Deva of my garden and with the Devas of each of the over-40 plant species in the garden; I will request that the Devas speak with one, unified voice; I will ask that each Deva “come forward” when I am asking about that specific plant; and then I will ask my series of planting and timing questions. Now, I know that I will still be opening more than 40 Devic connections, but the idea of opening all the connections in one combined nature request seems far easier than opening-and-closing, opening-and-closing, opening-and-closing — and on and on. I’m hoping to start using this tool tomorrow afternoon. I’ll let you know how it goes!

Garden Chart -- Zone 9 (2009)

As promised, I’m starting to post my co-creative soil garden planning charts (only the square-foot, raised bed charts). Here’s Zone 9 (click on the image above to see a larger version, where you can actually read the names of the plants!). The planning process has been a wild ride. In the past, I’ve connected only with the Deva of the garden when working on what to plant and where. Suddenly, this year I read in the Garden Workbook that I’m supposed to connect with the Deva of each plant when selecting plant varieties. Talk about an increase in connecting-and-muscle-testing workload! After a while, I started to think of the connections as making phone calls to the Devas — open a connection; hi, how are you?; ask for information; thanks!; close the connection. Sometimes, if I forgot to ask something, I’d “call right back,” and say, “Oops! I forgot something!” I imagined the Deva was smiling, patient with my absent-mindedness. The fascinating thing is how I started to feel the connections opening and closing in a way I hadn’t before — right in the center mass of my body, somewhere between my gut and my heart. This is an amazing development in my bodily connection with nature. Thank you, nature, for lining up all those phone calls for me!

Anyway, I’ve ordered about $200 worth of seeds. The cost is far less that buying seedlings for this many plants, and my intention for the garden states that it will provide produce to feed my family (at least supplementally), and I expect we will save far more than this intial $200 investment over the course of the growing season.

I’ll post the remaining three charts in the next couple of days…

As I sat outside my children’s bedroom doors tonight, waiting for them to fall asleep (knowing I was close by to keep them safe), I listened to the rain falling insistently outside. Immediately, I could see in my mind’s eye the sedum shoots coming up in the garden, welcoming this first, long drink of Spring. I was reminded of coming to a different kind of spring on a long hike and feeling the cool water rush down my dry throat. With that comparison in mind, how could I possibly characterize this wet weather as “bad?” 

Typically when describing weather (and the many other staples of daily life), I intentionally aim to select words that are more descriptive than “good” or “bad.” After my slip-up this afternoon, I quickly shifted my language and opted, instead, for the phrase “rainy weather” (which is a far more accurate description of the extant meteorological conditions!). I hope that tomorrow, even if I’m cold and wet (or cold and dry, or warm and wet, or warm and dry), I will aim for accuracy in description, instead of reverting to that too-easy, ineffective, inefficient “bad/good” habit.

Farm Wish List (courtesy of my son)

Here I sit, with my almost-nine-year-old son at my left, brainstorming what we might be planting “On The Farm” this year. Hmmmm. How exciting! The list of “wants” (so far) is:

• corn
• flax
• barley
• melon
• watermelon
• tomatoes
• sunflowers
• pumpkins
• lamb’s ears
• tulips
• roses
• potatoes
• carrots
• sugar snap peas
• soybeans (edamame, for his sister — what a great big brother)

Of course, we’ll start with this list and then consult with Nature on what’s balanced to plant in The Farm (Zone 11, for those interested in my various zones…). After all, we might think growing flax (or sugar snap peas, or carrots) is a fine idea, but that might not be a crop that’s in the greatest good for our Farm this year. We’ve got to always remember that Nature is our equal partner in this gardening business. (And no, I say to may son, Nature is not The Boss…but, then again, neither are we…)