We have a Thanksgiving tradition in my family, we take turns around the table sharing something we’re grateful for from the past year. We’ve been so blessed. Stories of new houses, new jobs, new babies, good food and togetherness abound. I too am thankful for these amazing blessings in our lives, but there is so much more. It barely skims the surface of the wonders and treasures that dazzle and humble me daily. Somehow the words “grateful” and “thankful” don’t really carry the weight of the feelings of appreciation inside.
Having recently put my garden to bed for the winter, reflections of the past year and countless miracles in the garden are fresh in my mind. Perhaps this is why we share a holiday of gratitude this time of year, it seems a natural progression. The garden teaches me about science and love, life and death, patience and art, persistence and compassion, past, present and future. Peoples have cultivated food as long as there have been people, it is the fabric of time and culture. Once we followed the migrating herds of cattle. Once we protected and returned to the best berry patches. Once we camped near fruitful trees. Once we collected and planted seeds. As I tend my garden, as I collect wild berries, as I make my dinner, my stitch is sewn. I wonder if our ancestors sat in awe, with humble gratitude in their hearts, thinking of this vast tapestry. I wonder if they knew that this is how wisdom and connection would be passed along for future generations to build on. I wonder what wisdom peoples will glean from this fabric a thousand years from now.
The hard work brings me strength, health and a clear mind. I am rewarded not only with delicious healthy food and a capable body, but with satisfaction from serving another: caring for the soil, encouraging the plants, providing for the pollinators, stifling disease, and feeding my family. The daily routines reveal and connect me to the cycles of flood and drought, the waxing and waning of the moon, the rising and setting of the sun, the lengthening and shortening of days, birth, growth, culmination, death and renewal. It reminds me to take life as it comes, and to be opportunistic.
It’s more than work though, to tend a garden. It’s a call, an impulse, a longing. The grass and clover are cool and gentle under my toes. The handles of my tools are weathered and smooth in my hands. The Earth is rich, fresh and inviting. There are tender, climbing, light and lofty peas; stout, dark, hearty greens; gigantic, rambling squash vines; slim green onion tops and delicate carrot fronds. Violet, pink, orange, yellow, red and white flowers take magical sizes and forms. The air is perfumed with the scent of flowers, herbs and earth, and buzzing with the sounds of happy, fuzzy little bees. All of us stand there in the morning, in the garden, basking in the sun. It warms my face and my shoulders and my soul as it warms the garden. It brings me energy, joy and lightness…and indeed we have evolved in the sun just as the plants have.
Perhaps, the most breathtaking part is that I am not only able to perceive and discover the gifts of this amazing world, but that humans have the ability to appreciate them, love them and be changed by them. As we gather together to celebrate Thanksgiving and the holidays ahead we’ll share stories and feasts and love. Let us take a moment to treasure the connections we share which are scarcely conveyable by words. Happy Thanksgiving!