Garden: A Home away from Home

It’s Saturday night and I'm inside worrying about the pile of crap that surrounds me at every angle, both literally and figuratively. I have the tortured and jumbled fragments of assignments, papers and exams clouding my brain. My thesis is like the enormously gigantic pink and blue polka-dotted whale flopping around in my tiny dormitory. It cries for attention at every second lest it suffocate and die. I worry that it will do just that and I will be left with a lifeless and dull figurative “thesis whale.” My room is a reflection of my mind as mounds of paper and books crowd my desk. My bed is covered with piles of clothing—clean or dirty—at this point I do not know. Lastly, the floor is sprinkled with books, sweaters, and random knick knacks that the hoarder in me could never throw away. My inner chaos was also reflected in the weather outside, as it slowly turned dark. The wind picked up and the relaxing shimmer of rain began to fall. Then it became extremely dark. There was a sinister feeling outside as the wind howled into my open window. I merely stared at the fierce blackness outside, un-phased by mother nature flexing her strength. I suppose she was insulted by my nonchalance and issued forth a crack of lightening that sounded as if it ripped the sky in half. “Well thank god i’m not out there,” I thought. Before I nestled into writers mode, I remembered the gardening beds.

 I have yet to visit them. But, how will they fare in this ferocious weather? I looked outside again with a little worry. What if the rain floods the beds and creates a disaster?! It’s such a strange concept to be worried about a nonliving thing. I find it to be normal to worry over another human or animal facing harsh weather. They express emotions at least. Or worrying over something expensive is nirmal too. However, a garden bed, that has yet to be planted, really doesn’t have a whole lot of life. So, why worry? I imagined the soil in the beds being strewn around into a muddy mess. I thought of surface runoff sweeping away the rich dirt leaving only contaminated water puddles in the garden. A toxic water waste dump. Then I realized that I was just imagining scenes I saw from news station coverages of natural disasters. Awful videos showing entire towns and cities under water, torn to pieces by earthquakes and set ablaze by uncontrollable wildfires. The tragedy always hits home hard when I see the video coverages of the aftermath of it all. Pangs of pain and discomfort when you see huge piles of rubble mixed with household items such as blendors, toothbrushes and baby cradles. A home taken away.Everything necessary to nurture a family destroyed in a blink of an eye. Thus, the same holds true for a garden.
         

A garden is a home for plants. A home that is protected, nurtured and contained in order to provide the plants with the best opportunity to grow. I had never thought of the garden this way, but it made me realize how special a garden can be because: if it is a nurturing home for the plants, is it not providing the same nurturing qualities of home for those who tend to it?  We have created a garden in order to recreate a home in the natural world. Part of me wonders if this is better? It’s as if a garden is the human attempt to domesticate nature. Although, I understand the ultimate purpose of a garden is to produce enough crops to feed families. But, can this be accomplished in the wild? The answer is probably no because that would be leaving our food unprotected. So, a garden is like a calm and tame nature. A garden is protected from the wilds and unpredictability of mother nature. A nature that has the same potential to nourish your mind and body just like your home. I look forward to trying out gardening to see if my idea of it as a home away from home proves to be true.