I'm a gardener. In every place that I've lived, if there was even the smallest scrap of unwanted dirt, I created a garden. I've tried to plant tough, happy plants that would take care of themselves, even if the next fifteen people who moved in had no interest in gardening.
When I'm digging around in the dirt and helping improve the health of plants, I feel that everything is right in the world. I'm particularly happy to get the chance to set a neglected garden back in order. I love pulling out weeds, and giving plants some breathing space.
About a year ago, I was given access to a trash filled plot of dirt behind my studio. It was a truly disgusting place, filled with unimaginable amounts of garbage. I haven't always had as much time as I would like to devote to the garden, and I'm still not so sure about how to garden in Northern California, but even so, things look good.
I set out to plant a (mostly) native garden, that would be a tiny oasis for birds and insects. Although the butterflies have not discovered the buckwheat I've planted, many other critters can be found in my little corner of industrial West Oakland.
It is good to create a space like this. I've really enjoyed turning a horrible mess into something happy and thriving. Seems obviously metaphorical, doesn't it?
Like that bee? She was exploring the flowers that I had planted in the wrecked wheelbarrows that I dragged out of the garden. I had never seen a green bee before yesterday. And she even stayed put long enough for me to grab my camera!