evolution of a creation

When I first met the plot of land destined to be this garden, it was a lawn area surrounded by Rose of Sharon bushes, two fig trees and two gardenias. It was plain and simple, and the temptation was to leave it that way, and not start another garden like the one we left behind. Mow and be done, I thought.

But some time that winter, there was a shift in the universe, and a vision formed for something more--a garden as a project I could sink my teeth into. Something I could form and develop over time and learn and grow alongside.

So that next garden season I carted in 7 yards of soil and created lasagna layers in the form of beds related to the N/S axis. I created the pathways, and an herb spiral. Since, I have developed the perennial area, worked on shade garden areas, and brought in fruit trees and edible perennials. 

What I learned was not so related to specific plants or gardening techniques.  While equipment for my creative outlet of choice(weaving) was tucked away until it had a place to settle(a studio), I found myself floundering and oppressed.  On the one hand is was nice to have all the freedom I had longed for from plans and projects--I thought that could be so delightful. But in reality I was depressed. Bepaw(Mr. L) was busy with his construction project, designing, managing, coordinating, building. I was bereft of a goal or creative outlet.

It has only been in retrospect that I have made the connection between the garden as creative outlet and my mental health. It wasn't so much the work, or the being outside, but the envisioning and working toward a desired outcome. It very clearly illustrated the deep human need for an expression of creativity.

I believe our innate creativity is a reflection--evidence if you will--of the character of our Creator. How can this thing dwell in us so deeply, and so persistently, without having a basis in some source? How can we spring fully bloomed with a personality and not have some recollection of the founding Person?

This year, the fourth year of development, the garden is beginning to really take form. There has been discouragement, and there have been moments  I've thought I should bring back the sod. But in spite of post-season burn out, each winter I've planned and plotted again to bring more form and function to the area. The work is starting to pay off. And I am learning what works and what doesn't. But mostly I'm learning about my need to express my Creator's character, not just in the hunger for creative outlet, but in the patience and wisdom to know that true change and growth takes time.

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