booandbunny

One day, a novice gardener came to a woman who had raised more than she and asked “Will you help me with this?”
The gardener looked over the rhizomes as she untied the brilliant scarf that kept her hat on her head. “I will,” she said. A comforting glow was all about her. She reached for a clay pot and planted them just below the surface. “Come back in six weeks,” she said.
So the novice gardener did.
“Here it is,” the gardener said, magic dust coming off every inch of her, floating down to the seedlings all around her. In the clay pot stood a tender iris, its first bud shoot pushing up between the leaves.
“Thank you,” I said cupping the pot in hands open much looser than those that gave her the rhizome. For in the six weeks that I had left the iris in her care I had learned to step back from my garden and watch what developed on its own.

Not long after, the novice returned seeking more help. Magic dust again sprinkled down on the rows of freshly planted seeds as the gardener moved by. “How are the iris?” she asked with a wide smile.
“They’ve taken hold and are spreading to explore their bed,” I answered. “Thank you so much.
“I was wondering, will you help me with this?”
She turned the seed packet over and over while saying things like: “How exciting! I can’t wait to see what we get! Oh, of course I will help. Come back in six weeks.”
So the novice did as she was told. Returning in six weeks, remembering to bring a picture of the many iris now boasting bud shoots in their bed. As she opened the gate the gardener came around the bend, raised her arms and exclaimed “Wait ’til you see!” All around her buds were about to burst open. The novice could feel the leaves dancing against her legs. “Oh THANK YOU!” I exclaimed as she handed me reds and yellows; oranges and purples. A prairie in three pots.
“Now remember,” she said, in a tender but stern way, “They need space to roam. Put the right kind of border on their bed and they will respect it. Of course they’ll attract things that might carry seeds to places you don’t wish them to be, but deal with those seedlings as they pop up.”
“Thank you again,” I said, gently placing the pots in a wagon to take them home. I thought to bring it along for, in the six weeks that the seeds were in her care I had learned that some plants need their own space, more space than others, and that doesn’t make them unruly, it makes them adventurous.

Not long after, the novice returned one last time. The gardener welcomed her with open arms. A new scarf held her hat to her head, but the same magic dust followed her wherever she went.
“I see you’ve moved some roses,” I said giving her a hug.
“Well, after so many years the soil needs a change you know,” she said. “What special project have you brought for me today?”
“I’ve had great success with this maple, but it seems to be hungry for something I can’t find,” I said. I handed her a coffee can that held a seedling I had raised from a mere whirly-copter found on the sidewalk. “Will you help me?” Of course, she said. “Of course. Come back in six weeks.”
During those weeks when the seedling was in her care I realized I had left it between the iris and the wildflowers, at this point all much taller than the maple. And when I did as she said and returned to her garden six weeks later, I brought my wagon along with pictures of my blooming iris and adventurous wildflowers.
For by now I had learned to be prepared when returning to her sparkling garden.
And it was a good thing I had. For my coffee can was long a thing of the past.
“LOOK!” she said, magic dust showering down as she rushed down a path. “LOOK!”
In sunshine near the roses, stood a strong, straight young maple, leaves unfurled as wide as the sky. “Lots of light,” the gardener said. “No shadows. Give it lots of light and you will see how tall and strong it will be.”
“How can I ever thank you enough?” I asked the wise woman who had raised so much more than me.
“Oh it’s nothing,” the gardener said, tightening her scarf. “I’m just so glad you brought your plants to me. We had such a good time together.”
“But this is all I gave you,” the novice said recalling the coffee can, the seeds, the rhizome. “And look at what you’ve given me.”

// posted by HoBess @ 3/17/2006 07:57:00 AM