It is funny how we humans always take catastrophes so personally; when something horrible happens to us we struggle to get back on our feet. We take it to heart and we become paralysed by the situation. This is not uncommon, people struggle emotionally and physically to cope after a disaster (physical or psychological). But plants somehow flourish in this tremendous violence. They somehow find the power to regenerate continually and perpetually. From the fallen tree, mushrooms and other fungi spring to life; dead matte becomes the very soil from which the roots of plants suck out nutrients for their growth. From one season to the next, plants die, produce seeds, and continue the growing process.
After a heavy storm a couple of weeks (or a month) ago, many trees have been chopped up, plants have begun to grow anew, and life has moved on. But these moments of utter violence make one think, it slows down one's thoughts. Or at least my own thinking slows down in these moments of reflection. Even after moments of catastrophe, the flowers will still bloom, the bees will still be attracted to the scent of orange jasmine, and the seeds of trees and shrubs will still want to grow.
My garden is kind of full at the moment, but I continually want to make cuttings and sow new seeds. But with the prolific growth of the September bush and all of its seeds, small seedlings pop up over the entire garden. Usually, I let them grow a bit until they provide some leaves then I cut them down to the base of their stem and add it to the compost. This week, I decided to take a bunch of these seedlings and plant them in small pots. In a couple of weeks or a month, they will be big enough to be relocated. It is amazing to see how these plants just want to grow. Spreading their seed all over the garden, proliferating.
 |  |  |
|---|---|---|
| Chickweed seedlings | Wild rocket seedlings and gooseberry re-growth | Basil regrowth |
After cutting down all of my basil and gooseberry plants that got damaged in the wind-storm, everything seems to grow back! The basil is starting to regrow even though I know this will not be the tastiest. Basil from the more woody parts of the stems is usually more bitter. I prefer new-growth basil.
But the seedlings of so many plants are also happily growing along! That is if the birds and animals leave them out. I caught a squirrel and a big Hadada ibis bird digging in the flower pots in search of yummy treats. Luckily, there are so many seedlings that they can take some for them!
Walking through the garden, I am continually confronted with life. The small yellow flower of the wild rocket plant, the seed head of the dandelion begging me to blow its seeds away, the smell of it all. The wind in my hair, the purple flower trying to open its petals in the early morning sun.
When we get so busy that we forget our connection to nature, we lose a big part of ourselves. We then tend to think that disaster is bad, that we will never recover from bad news and that catastrophe is the end. But if we can learn anything from nature, it is that life never ceases when there is even a minuscule connection that tethers us to fertile soil.
Plants that still have their roots in the ground will regrow when a big portion of their growth is cut away. From side shoots, new plants will emerge. The death of a massive tree provides almost unlimited resources for plants to tap into.
Even after the worst of storms, there will be a time when calmness returns; the bees will again pollinate the flowers; and the birds will sing their songs anew, and this time maybe with even more tonality and emphasis.
And even after all the dried-out seeds have fallen to the ground, and the new blossoms open their vulnerable petals to the harsh sun, the smell of renewed growth and wet soil will continue intoxicating me. We can get so worked up in and through out daily lives that we forget we are part of nature; with disaster, we have the opportunity to tap our roots in the rotting matter that provides nutrients. We are part of nature and nature is part of us.
It is not easy. But we can do this.
Nature teaches us so much, we should just bend down, smell the flower, and open our being to be touched by her workings.
Happy gardening, and keep well.
All of the writings and musings are my own, albeit inspired by the intoxicating effect of nature. The photographs are my own, taken with my Nikon D300.