The Dance of the Gardener
The Impulse Behind Constantly Checking Our Plants
It goes a little something like this:
First Step: Coffee
Second Step: Couch
Third Step: two sips of coffee
Fourth Step: Go outside with coffee and check on plants
Variations on Steps:
First Step: Snack, tea, martini, fully plated dinner
Second Step: dinner table, patio chair, breakfast nook, lounge chair
Third Step: two bites or sips
Fourth Step: Go outside with first step and check on plants
Explained:
Every culture has a flat bread: tortilla, naan, focaccia, injera, crepe, pita, etc.
Every gardener has a garden dance.
Every flat bread needs flour and water. But every flat bread is slightly different. Just so, every garden dance needs a garden, but every gardener’s dance is varied. A food or drink item may not accompany the gardener (though I’ll still always strongly recommend a good coffee). Outdoor seating may be preferred over a couch. A quick version may just include dropping everything and walking out the door.
The Gardener Can’t Help It
There’s a game I’ve heard of wherein a group of people turn on a dance-worthy beat and whoever dances first loses. Or wins, if you’re asking me.
This suggests that dancing is impulsive, control over our bodies has been lent to the song. The beat chooses us, not the other way around. It’s that scene in Beetlejuice when “Day-O" by Harry Belafonte comes on. Everyone is compelled. No one is spared.
The garden dance is no different. The garden may suddenly appear through the window when we turn our heads a certain way, or the smell of iris wafts through an open window, or the sun casts a cool shadow on the garage wall. And just like that, we are summoned. “I’ll be outside for a few minutes” pours out of our mouths without consideration.
A dramatic reenactment might include a dish we were just washing falling in slow motion out of our hands and to the ground as we spring toward the backdoor. Not sure why my mind has us in Laura Ingalls Wilder apparel, but I’m not here to argue with a daydream. We hear the dish shatter on the floor but leave it, the garden is calling after all. People recklessly leave doors open all the time on TV and in movies. This can’t be all that different.
The dash to the garden is ungraceful, when we get to the door we put our whole body into unlocking it and turning the knob – completely over-the-top and unnecessary. Finally, the door flings open and light blasts us back. But only for a moment. A maniacal smile crosses our face and we march forward.
All that to end up merely standing over a garden bed and staring.
Our 20s club years - where the dancing was in earnest and nasty - kind of pay off with our asses in the air every two minutes to pull a weed or get a good look at whatever is sprouting.
If you’ve been properly bitten by the garden bug, you’ve been nodding this whole time. There’s a constant pull toward the garden. Perhaps it's this galaxy’s version of The Force. Or perhaps it's just avoiding the laundry. Or maybe it’s our bodies’ desperation to get back to nature.
More than likely, it’s all three.
Whatever it is, let it happen and enjoy the dance. Even if your neighbor is watching.