Gardening Love

       Been thinking lately about idealism and realism in romance.  A lifelong romantic, I started doodling hearts at age 4.  I know all too well the yearning for love's intoxication. 

       The knight questing for Holy Grail, the lone seafarer searching for Tropical Paradise, the romantic looking for The One: these stories emphasize the element of search.  That's where the challenge is.  Implied is the notion that once you find the one, your work is pretty much done.  There's plenty to eat in paradise.  The trick is to find the island.

       Another model of relationship is peeking its way into my consciousness:  the gardener.  I remember, as a kid, I didn't like gardening.  I especially disliked weeding.  I wasn't fond of hoeing either.  Perhaps it’s the new house.  Perhaps it's having a partner who can't wait to garden next spring.  Anyway, I'm warming to the idea.

       Gardeners find a good plot of land, cultivate it, nourish it, plant seeds, water, weed, cultivate and nourish some more.  They harvest and enjoy their crops - grateful for what they have, accepting that some years are leaner than others.  Some gardeners freeze or can for enjoyment and nourishment during the winter. 

       During winter, gardeners often think about and prepare for the next spring, when the cycle begins anew.  They are famous for trying new things, learning new techniques, paying attention to what works and what doesn't.  Master gardeners remain students.  They study the art of gardening and the unique nature of their particular garden.  Year after year, they tend and attend.  Year after year, their gardens grow even more unique, more beautiful, and more abundant.

       I know of no stories out there about gardeners searching and searching for the perfect plot to plant.  For gardeners, it's not the search that's important.  It's what you do after you pick a piece of ground that counts.

       Be merry.  Hoe, hoe, hoe.