That True Connection

Today, we planted seeds in our second bed! I also learned more knowledge on the rye that was planted in the beds. Apparently, just growing the rye doesn’t provide the nitrogen the soil needs in order to nourish your garden. What your supposed to do is uproot the rye and then tuck it underneath the soil. Therefor, when the rye decomposes under the soil surface, it will release alot of nitrogen. Clever! I wonder how such plant knowledge was figured out. When I got there, I learned to my disappointment that Will had already overturned the soil with rye. I’m clearly overly eager about this garden if im actually disappointed about not doing a manual labor job. I brought a mini booklet and pen with the intention of sketching one of our plants. I chose to sketch the cherokee purple tomato plant otherwise named The Purple People Eater by Courtney. Engaging in trying to study these baby plants will allow you to notice all their complexities. They look so simple, so delicate and so small when you are looking down at them. But, if you get at their level and face them eye to eye than you begin to notice so much more. It reminds me of how we can look down upon others and judge without ever trying to understand them. The baby plant had so many feaures such as the frosted green stalk that was covered in fuzz. The fine hairs giving the stalk a frosted effect. The leaves had jagged edges with complex vein designs. Veins so fine you would never know they had existed had you not checked. The only thing I noticed from afar was the crisped, browned and slowly shriveling leaves. A plant that looked as if it were dying was all I noticed.

Awareness and sketching this plant really allowed me to understand that your first observations are usually wrong. A plant relationship is the same as a relationship with a human being. A plant doesn’t speak in words, however it does speak in different ways. The plant’s shriveled leaves told me it needed water. However, when I look at it it shows that the plant is strong. It is surviving and striving. The vibrancy of its green hue. The stalk and leaves that reach for the sun. It is saying don’t judge so quickly. I will survive yet. It was a connection made when I understood what was being siad to me. I think gardening has allowed me to understand that making connections is more than just an exchange of words to find similarities. A connection is understanding the differences and absorbing it all. It shows there is always so much more to know.

When I began to plant the seeds of the dragon carrot, I further understood all the factors that are necessary to creating true connections. These carrots, apparently, will grow to be purple which I thought was wild! My eyes clearly couldn’t see these seeds for how amazing they would become in time. I dug a row, using my hands, that was about 2 inches deep width wise. My eyes widened staring at the soils rich black color which contrasted with my own hand color. The soil felt so soft. It had a deep organic scent. I closed my eyes and inhaled a mixed scent of rain, sweet grass, and the smell of the soil. I tried to liken the soil’s rich scent to something but couldn’t even think of anything! It had a unique scent all its own. I glided my hands gently over the soil. I felt all the different complexities. Soil that looked uniform from afar, but actually consisted of milllions of particles of varying size, shape and texture. I insured the soil was neatly arranged and ready for seeds. I poured the seeds that were tinier than tear drops into my palm. The seeds were just as misunderstood as the Cherokee Purple Tomato. I looked upon these tiny seeds, thumbing them in my cupped hand, feeling them to be weak and fragile. I pinched a few in between my fingers and sprinkled them into the furrowed soil. I watched them fall onto the dirt and that was it. It was time to cover them. Wait, thats it? But they’re babies! Where is the nurturing or the protection these weak seeds surely need? But, apparently, I was wrong. These seeds are very strong. They do not need excessive babying as I had suspected. So, instead, I carefully folded over the soil on each side as if it were a blanket with my hands. I realize now that one of the most transformational parts of gardening was that I truly engaged all my senses. I have enjoyed doing so tremendously because i was no longer separated from nature. I didn’t have on gloves nor did I use any tools. It allowed me to feel a greater connection with the garden, the plants and nature in general. Touch was the most special connection. It is a transfer of energy. It is a transfer of emotions. Touch is the greatest of all the connections.

I think the problem of human connection is that we don’t engage in all our senses when we try to connect to each other. Instead, we have a set profile where we look at gender, age, sexual orientation, occupation and all these other labels that have their own implied meanings. We think that we can judge a person by knowing all this information. But, we couldn’t be more wrong. I wish we would judge each other using our senses: actually listen to each other with our ears, use our mouths to smile and speak to more people, actually look at them with our eyes. Boldly look into their eyes instead of staring from afar. Use our noses to be familiar with natural (unoffensive!) scents. Use our hands to give a supportive squeeze on the shoulder or high-five, instead of a distant wave. Using all our senses would make the experience of human interaction come to life. Personal space and permission is important. But, I think that if we strived to connect with each other, as I have connected with this garden, than we would begin to exprience a connection unlike any we had experienced before this. I never realized how much I could learn, in such a short period of time, from two small beds, and a few little plants and seeds.