Day: March 18, 2013

Florence Walrath was a gardener at one point in her life, but towards the the end – she died when she was 104 – she was not able to care for her gardens and they have withered. My big summer project – Maria too – is to ring the house with gardens. I am renting a tiller and digging a garden all around the house, the biggest in the front, sweet peas and morning glories on the fences, we planted two locust trees this week, more pine trees later. I have had several gardens in my life, I was an intense gardener in my cabin on the mountain (where I wrote “Running To The Mountain”). I hired people to do it at Bedlam Farm, and that was a mistake, as I lost touch with it.

People assume because I am a man and because I am me that I will need help and know nothing about gardening. In some ways they are right, in others wrong. Many are suggesting good books for me. I love books but I will share this garden experience with you and I will be upfront, as always. I don’t read how-to books. I don’t ever read dog or animal books – I don’t want other people’s ideas and stories in my head. And my training ideas have worked better than the guru’s books.  I never follow instructions, alas. I like to make my own decisions and follow my own instincts. I think a shrink would have a field day testing me for learning disorders. Here’s the way I plant my gardens.

As soon as it is warm for a bit, I will go to a nursery I love in Vermont. I will not read any books or directions or seek any advice from the many wonderful and knowledgeable gardeners around. I will buy an armful of seeds and spring bulbs, bags of potting soil (we will use donkey manure for fertilizer, great stuff and we have plenty). I never know what I am planting, I do not plant it in any particular order or pattern, other than to separate the seeds a bit. I will water obsessively, weed daily, Red and I will hover over the gardens like parents over newborn babies.

What I want is a garden riot, all kinds of beautiful stuff popping up out of the ground and framing the house with color.

I can’t wait to see what comes up, even though I have no idea what it is or what the proper instructions are. The gardens, like my own head, are an explosion of light and color to me, a statement of affirmation, a testament to the house coming to life again. A personal thing that comes from inside of me, and Maria also. People going by will see lots of color and lots of green and when people ask me what my flowers are, I will say I have no idea, they are just bright and colorful, and I will photograph them all summer and my wonderful wife will sneak around with clippers and fill the house and my study with them. We have bought a bunch of plastic portable greenhouses – they each hold about 80 plants – and we have been running to the hardware for soil ad seeds. We have spent the last couple of days filling them up and putting covers on and watering them and putting them by sunny windows.

In a month or so, we will stick them in the ground along with a lot of other stuff. That’s my garden plan, and I have had some beautiful gardens with this plan, and I will keep you posted on how it goes. For me, gardens ought to run amok in glory and defiance.

Another storm is heading our way, up to a foot of snow is expected, and the chickens seemed to sense a gathering storm, as the wind came up, the hens huddle in the bushes by the side of the house, Strut standing guard over them – he never lies down. It was a family portrait, a chicken setting of great dignity and I am appreciating these simple and industrious creatures more and more.

Let’s hear it for the Helldogs, the dogs who are never quite ours,

who never fully  submit.

Who can cause trouble anywhere,

roaring at passing dogs, Howling at sirens and trucks, leaping over and under fences,

snatching food off of counters. Terrorizing mailmen and the men in the big brown trucks,

which Helldogs hate. The dogs

who would love to behave, but just can’t quite. Who want to be trained, but won’t quite be trained.

Who come when they can when they can, not when they must.

Who are not cute or cuddly.

Who bear watching, are faster than us, one step ahead of us, can make trouble in the blink of an eye,

who want to be loved but can’t submit. Here’s to them, big hearts and much trouble.

Sometimes I think we love them the most.

Another storm sked to hit tomorrow, I’m naming it Susie. Got wine, books, camera, girl. I’m ready. So is Flo, who seems to have commandeered the porch chair, driving out Minnie and the chickens. Flo is a cat of entitlement.

Thomas Merton taught me that life isn’t about what we fear, but what we want. It took me a very long time to absorb this idea, to put it into some kind of practice, to absorb it. When I wake up in the night, I am often thinking about what I fear. At least, I used to. This morning, after some years of hard work, repetition, concentration, focus (hard for me), I woke up thinking about what it was I really wanted. This was my list:

I want to hold the person I love in my arms and trust her completely, and accept the love she has for me. And share my love with her.

I want to do the work I love. To write a beautiful book that touches and inspires people, and makes them laugh and cry.

I want to be an honest and authentic person, to say what I mean.To trust my decisions and respect myself.

I wish to shed the drama and self-pity and sense of struggle that has shadowed my thinking at times and caused me to see myself as a victim, life as a struggle, a conflict, to blame other people for my frustrations, to seek their pity and support. I want my life to be an affirmation, not an argument.

I want to take beautiful photographs, ones that sometimes make people smile, or say wow.

I want to live in the natural world. To see  beautiful things out the window, hills and forests, mists and valleys, farms and streams.

I want to live a life connected to animals. To listen to them and learn from them, and draw from their wisdom and acceptance and the many other lessons of life they can teach me, if I listen.

I want to understand community, and be a part of one. To use what I have to do good. To pass on what I know to others. To help the poor when I can.

I want to be open to change and growth, every day of my life, to the end of it.

I want to live a life of faith, in myself, the people I love, the work I do, and the conviction that people are good

I want to age wisely and well, to make my own decisions about how I will live and how I will die, and not turn those choices over to greedy and indifferent people who want to profit from my life.

I want to see every day of my life as precious, and full of meaning and achievement. And peace and connection.

This is what I want? And you know what. This is what I have.