THE NATURE OF LOVE - 5 June 2011
5th June 2011
My daughter left on Friday, having spent the week with us. I did my best during that time to act like a grown-up with regard to the house, but I never could hide anything from her, intentionally or otherwise. So it shouldn’t have been a surprise when Joel, who’d been in his studio all day, joined us for tea one afternoon and asked how we were doing that she replied, “I’m fine, but Mum’s a bit colicky.” When she left and we hugged goodbye for the last time in this house she said, with the wisdom and generosity that is so her, “it’s just a house, Mum. It played its part in us all becoming a family and now we don’t need it.”
Since then I feel unburdened of a lump of anxiety I’ve been holding onto. After all, twenty years of rich life have been lived here during which time the intricacies of relationship between parents, children, step-parents, step-children, step-siblings, in-laws and grandchildren have collided and eventually softened. We, like the garden have matured and while there may be a few stubborn weeds and the occasional sign of distress we pretty much know how to nip it in the bud. Bring on the sun and the Miracle Gro, I say.
The last few days have been a rare experience here. After the madness of Memorial Day weekend the neighborhood settled back into its off-season serenity but with the bonus of great weather: Blue, breezy days, the sea gentle in its comings and goings and even warm enough for a dip. Yet the evenings draw in with enough chill to require a fire – a lovely combination.
The veggie beds are getting robust now, the lettuce almost too much to keep up with. Radishes, kale, mustard greens, arugula along with an abundance of parsley, find their way from earth to table daily and we can feel our bodies almost inhaling their goodness. Soon the peas and strawberries will be ready and if we’re lucky we may get to sample some beets and broccoli before we leave.
This I shall miss, perhaps even more than the sea, (which I never thought would happen!) I never really considered this “my garden” but rather a little bit of the planet that I’ve had the privilege to tend. And I have never gone into the garden and not come out nourished as well as humbled. Over the years more and more of my creative energy became expressed here on this patch of sandy soil 60’x80’ clinging bravely to the edge of the sea.
In a way gardening and parenting hold much in common. You grow them from seemingly nothing, labor over them, succeeding in some areas and failing dismally in others. You try to form them according to your will only to have them run wild when your back is turned. I’d like to say I was as good a parent as I’ve been a gardener, but I’m afraid that’s not the case. Yet while my work as a gardener will soon be over, fortunately parenting won’t. It never is. It’s true, after a certain age our children don’t need us the way they once did, but if you’re lucky enough to have a daughter like mine who has a forgiving heart, then there is still time to tend to the nature of love.