Peony, poppy, bearded iris, Siberian iris, poppy, peony, peony, lilac, bearded iris, lilac.
One of the daily gifts of the short bicycle commute to my
office is watching other people’s gardens burst into flowers I can’t grow in my
own. Amazingly, I get to live in a place where one tiny front garden borders on
the next, and it’s easy to see them not as my garden, his garden, her garden,
their garden, but as the garden--the “one
great garden which/ is always here” so movingly celebrated in Thom Gunn’s elegy
for his aunt, “Breaking Ground.” I find myself not caring much that I can’t
grow myself what somebody else has grown for all of us. And glad for the things
I grow for them. Gratitude for what I receive, beyond anything I might have
asked or imagined, flows into generosity
flows into gratitude. You can't garden in spaces like these without having at least some awareness that you're planting and weeding and watering for other people, just as they're planting and weeding and watering for you. After a while, the
very distinction between giving and receiving starts to break down in this
non-zero-sum game.
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