the gardens we plant

While I have been gardening for a long time, I’m still so much of a novice. I don’t know enough about what I’m doing but I’m doing it anyway. It’s a real adventure that costs about a hundred bucks every time I head out the door to the garden center. But things are filling in, and the heat is helping the growth of all my baby plants, both annuals and perennials.

The heart of our garden this year is a permagarden bed, our first one, which is basically layers of biodegradable garden waste, covered with compost and top soil, and then covered again with hay as a mulch to keep the soil moisture high. Our permagarden is, clearly, a haven for slugs. I have never seen so many slugs in my life. I tried the beer thing and it didn’t help at all. I’ve now surrounded each plant with a ring of copper wire, which helps, but some of these slime balls still manage to find a way onto the most delicate plants. They have a definite preference for eggplants and peppers. Since all of our gardens are organic, we manually remove slugs and other pests. On the first day I could barely get myself to touch a slug. Now I’m grabbing them and slinging them mercilessly across the field.

Edible Flowers germinating to be transplanted

I’m learning about soil and acidity and all those things a person has to learn about organic gardening. In Italy, we just put the plants in the ground and they grew exponentially and we couldn’t keep up with any of it. We’d give up mid season and the zucchini would be the size of bowling balls. Here, I’m trying to understand more about what I’m doing and what works best for the plants themselves. It’s more slightly controlled chaos, because I will never, ever be an organised gardener. I love wild green. I can’t stand rows of things. Just give me bunches of flowers and food plants everywhere and I’m happy.

Gardens reflect how we are as people. I tend not to think too much before I plant, plunking it in and seeing what happens. And this is why they are so therapeutic. They tell us stories about ourselves. If we hate gardening, I am convinced it’s because we have not found OUR way to garden. A garden knows when you hate it. This is why, while a bit of planning is a good idea - positioning, sun hours, that sort of thing - it’s better to start out allowing your garden to be as you want it. Especially the first year. Pay attention and learn from what is actually happening on (and in) the ground. And it’s really best not to care what the neighbours think of your garden. I know how much pressure there can be from outsiders. I have seen those piles of mulch that get delivered to the suburbs in colours like black or bright red. They scare me.

I am telling you you don’t have to do anything in your garden you don’t want to.

Permaculture garden bed

In this way our gardens become reflections of us. Allow yourself to be drawn to plants. Let them work their magic on you. Dig deep, nice, holes for them and give them compost and water. Watch what they give back. It’s magical.

The purpose of these garden beds is two-fold. First, I want to have a zero kilometer source of food that has been grown from nutrients found on our property. It’s really a big experiment (most vegetable gardens are) and we hope, within a couple of years, to have scaled the garden in a way that it can feed us for at least a quarter of the year.

Second, we have plans to open a supper club / enoteca type concept next year where people can come here, taste and buy wines, and enjoy natural, casual food served in a relaxed environment. It's literally days until our planning permission comes in and well, I want the this gardening to be producing bountiful quantities of organic produce by the time construction is finished in 2022. It’s a pretty cool luxury to serve real garden-to-table food.

Berries bring me more joy than any other plant. Here are some yellow raspberries starting to form into fruit.

Those are the pragmatic reasons for wanting to garden. But there are other reasons, having to do with much deeper, more personal things. Gardening is a grounding exercise for me. It lifts me out of my momentary stress and literally plants my thoughts deep into nature. Having a garden means being in very close touch with the cycle of life in all of its complexity. My feet, barefoot on the ground, connect with Mother Earth. I spending time looking at each plant, wondering how I can help it, hoping I’m doing the right things.

If I’m feeling like I have emotional things to sort out, the garden is the place for me to do it. I gather strength here. I feel the rhythm of existence here. I feel closer to all living things when I am in the garden. The soil in this area is deep and rich, but full of clay and I try to figure out how to add and make it looser so that tiny roots can better absorb nutrition. If I help the garden, I help myself. If I go to the garden with a heavy heart, I leave it tired but relieved.

That’s the magic of the gardens we plant. Even if it’s just a couple of herbs on your window sill, bring nature home with you. It will make your day, and your heart, lighter.