I loved growing flowers when I was little, but somewhere around the ages of 14-15 I stopped. No particular reason, I think. Perhaps it was just another childhood interest I'd lost to time, school, and work.
It wasn't until this year that I really started trying again, and I owe it to Robin Wall Kimmerer. An indigenous botanist and the author of Braiding Sweetgrass, this woman helped me find an old joy again! A friend of mine recommended the book to me. They said it'd been an assigned reading from their time in university, and that they thought I'd enjoy it. They were correct. I finished it in just a few days.
“People often ask me what one thing I would recommend to restore relationship between land and people. My answer is almost always, “Plant a garden.” It’s good for the health of the earth and it’s good for the health of people. A garden is a nursery for nurturing connection, the soil for cultivation of practical reverence. And its power goes far beyond the garden gate—once you develop a relationship with a little patch of earth, it becomes a seed itself."
"It’s a place where if you can’t say “I love you” out loud, you can say it in seeds.”
The book definitely isn't all about gardening, though. Kimmerer includes a collection of essays that weave together her professional background, culture, and personal experiences to cover a variety of pressing topics. It'll make you feel hopeful and hopeless at the same time. It'll make you feel like you need to plant some flowers.
“If good citizens agree to uphold the laws of the nation, then I choose natural law, the law of reciprocity, of regeneration, of mutual flourishing."
“What happens to nationalism, to political boundaries, when allegiance lies with winds and waters that know no boundaries, that cannot be bought or sold?”
If you've not read it before, you should. But purchase a copy at your locally-owned bookstore, if you can.
My favorite color these past few years has been pink; so, when I was strolling through Lowes in search of seeds to buy this past spring, I grabbed almost every packet with the color.
When my husband finished making his selections of orange and purple, we set out to work on our first garden together. I hadn't expected him to enjoy it as much as he did, but it wasn't long before I found him stealing the afternoon waterings from me, grinning proudly at newly formed buds, and lamenting over wilted stems.
The warm months of spring and summer have now swiftly passed us by, and we're anxiously waiting for the first frost to take the green from our yard. 'My Pink Garden' is a love letter to that tiny little plot of florals out back. It's definitely nothing magnificent, nothing that would make it into one of those home magazines or anything like that. But the bees and butterflies have loved it, and I've loved being responsible for that.
After much love and care, I proudly present to you the blooms of our labor:
"A great longing is upon us, to live again in a world made of gifts. I can scent it coming, like the fragrance of ripening strawberries rising on the breeze." - Kimmerer
Psst - more prints coming soon. ;)