Gratitude Grows Here

By Toni Senory

I would need plenty more space than this column allows if I were to list all that I am thankful for this year. But given that this is a gardening column, I will do my best to stay on topic. However, as we gardeners know, garden themes have a clever way of branching into every corner of our lives. I’m thankful for that. 

Good Grub. I am thankful the good grub that my garden (and those of friends’) provides. There aren’t many other experiences in life more giddy-inducing than feasting on backyard garden-grown plants, their fruits and roots. Sometimes, they even make it into the kitchen. 

Renewal. Thank goodness for second chances and opportunities for renewal that the garden provides. There’s hardly a place more forgiving. Something didn’t quite work out according to plan? There’s always tomorrow, next season, next year. Just like real life. But better. 

Awe. Anticipation. Admiration. A life void of these emotions is difficult to comprehend. I’m thankful  for the garden’s ability to provide a lifetime of these endorphin-releasing states-of-being. 

Tinker. Imagine life without a garden to amble aimlessly--pinching this, tweaking that--with no particular end in view. I can’t do it. Don’t make me. Thankfully, I don’t have to. Tinkering encourages glimpses from different perspectives, making a familiar garden look brand new. I’m thankful for fresh perspectives. And fresh peas, while I'm at it. 

Ideas. The garden is a place where ideas come to germinate, grow or die. I’m not even talking about plants. I’m grateful for a place that helps me sort the good, from the bad and the ugly. (Tip: while the bad can be tossed into your compost pile, the ugly should bagged and taken out with the garbage.)

Teacher. A million apples to the greatest teacher of all time, whose lessons in patience, adaptation, humility and perseverance have been profound. You had me at “outdoor classroom.” Thank you.

Unintended visitors. I’m thankful for the other species with whom I share the garden. Birds! Bees! Squirrels! Chipmunks! Insects! Your presence brings the space to life with vibrating energy. (Psst! Now, if some of you could redirect your vibrating energy away from edible garden, that’d be great.) 

Dirt. A living, breathing organism so complex that we can barely wrap our heads around it. I feel giddy just thinking about it and am certainly happiest when I’m in it. Many thanks to you, Earth’s little crust, whose existence makes life possible. 

Endless enrichment. For that, endless thanks.