“It’s a wild violet. A bit scruffy… it has lost a petal… but still…” The tiny purple flower peeked out from between the stones we had piled up at the base of the weigela to cocoon the roots that had sprouted from its stem in the old raised bed.
“Where did it come from?”
“It self-seeded…”
“That’s amazing…”
My son, with his nascent interest in gardening, has a lot to learn and is learning fast. Every day, the garden offers new miracles, details that would pass unseen as part of the bigger picture of spring to anyone not inspecting each plant minutely and daily. Growth points and leaf buds are being monitored, unexpected colours are appearing and the mysteries of Nature are revealing themselves to eyes full of wonder.
Tiny, scale-like leaves top each little branch of the heather, crowning last year’s faded flowers with pink and vibrant green. A clematis catches hold of the branches of the climbing rose, wrapping its fragile stems around the green wood, pulling itself higher every day. Spires of tulips, their outer leaves wrapped tightly around the inner to protect the half-formed bud, begin to unfurl as the flower grows towards the sun.
Bud casings swell and slowly burst open as the baby leaves they contain seek their freedom. Folded, pleated…Nature’s origami… finding their way into the light.
But it is the roses that really fascinate my son. He planted a host of bare-rooted specimens in the autumn… lifeless, dead-seeming wood that is now coming to life. He watches the growth buds turn from brown to pink, green and red before the new growth emerges… leaves and stems that are not merely green, but deep red, hot pink and lime.
He already had some mature roses too, that I pruned severely either when they were moved or disturbed last autumn. My son was concerned that they would look bare… even though I had shown him that I cut the branches above an almost invisible growth point. He has been amazed at how the sparse branches are filling out, completely covered with new shoots.
I am taking great delight in his wonder, as it is reminding me to see and appreciate the miracles happening just outside the door, instead of just knowing that they are there. And, as we tour the garden every day, we are seeing life in action.
Every growing thing is a channel for an invisible but determined life-force. Watching the garden grow, it seems that how much of that force can be channelled is determined by the natural form of the plant. A rose, for example, that is pruned, thus diminishing its natural form, will put out many new shoots to replace the one that is cut as if to compensate and provide a vessel for the unstoppable influx of life.
One of the old roses did not survive being transplanted. Even its skeletal remains, as the dead wood begins to decay, is a vessel for life. Insects, fungi and algae have moved in to colonise the vacated form. Life, observed my son, always seems to find a way. When you consider the innumerable life-forms on the planet and the almost infinite number of ways they can reproduce and replicate themselves, there is no arguing that statement.
It begs the question, though… is life-force itself an infinite or a finite thing? If infinite, where does it come from? Is it in a constant state of cosmic recycling or is it being continually replenished as it is spent? If finite, is every life on the planet simply part of the planetary being? An exuberant expression of earth’s inner life? Either way, the artistry that creates the incalculable diversity of forms can only be a source of amazement.
I thought about how much money local authorities spend on municipal parks and flower beds… planting trees, covering roundabouts in floral designs and generally creating green spaces. With budgets so tight that essential services often suffer, you might think that landscaping might come low down the list of priorities, and yet we continue to make space for nature within our urban developments. Perhaps it is a very deep-seated need that is being acknowledged by the town planners.
Watching the tender, fragile leaflets and stems burgeoning in a suburban garden has opened a doorway to a vast realm of wonder. The sense of connection, of being part of a single stream of life, is acute and beautiful. The sense of kinship with every other living thing in existence, on this world and beyond, becomes unshakeable. And the knowledge that, with or without us, life will find a way is rather comforting. Watching the garden grow brings home the human part in a vast dance of life, where we are but one of myriad dancers. And that we have the capacity to be conscious of that can only be seen as a gift.
The Silent Eye 
We have wild violets on a patch near the front of my house – we were told that was pretty special, since they don’t grow everywhere!
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No, they don’t. I’ve never managed to encourage the wild ones to grow in my garden.
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What a beautiful things to share, nature, flowers gardens. Mother nature is a great teacher 💜
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The more I look, the more I realise that all our lessons have their roots and reflections in Nature, one way or another… and that ‘nature’ has a wider remit than we usually notice. x
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Reblogged this on France & Vincent.
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The miracle of Spring and rebirth. I am often concerned about cutting back my plants but every year I am surprised when the new growth appears. A lovely post. In a way your son’s miraculous recovery is similar.
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I think, Darlene, that Nick sees the comparison between himself and the plants. While one part of his life was cut short, others have opened out for him.
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Lovely post, Sue, which reminds me that I need to stop work occasionally and go outside to enjoy all the miracles that are happening out there!
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Even in the rain, the garden is still busy 🙂
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Wouldn’t be the first time I gardened in the rain, but so old now, I might rust!
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I’ve done it myself… moved a whole garden in torrential rain once, but I’d not do it again by choice 😉
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As we get older, there seems to be so many things we wouldn’t care to repeat!
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But still a lot I want to try 😉
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Same here…
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Little miracles. Life in action. Perspective. ❤️
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Absolutely 🙂
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Reblogged this on BOOK CHAT and commented:
Sue Vincent’s post on The Silent Eye reminds us to take the time to watch the miracle of growth and rejuvenation that is happening in our gardens.
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You must be very chuffed with your lad. 😀
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I am… but you don’t necessarily have to tell him I said so 😉
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My lips are sealed. 😀
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I appreciate that 😉
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A garden is so life-affirming. I’m glad Nick is finding joy in it. Give him my regards – tell him the sap is running in the maple trees!
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I’ll tell him, Eliza 😉
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You know, it is so truly refreshing to read this. I know that in an old park where I lived (a senior mobile home park), I gathered up all the wild violets from a mobile home slated to be torn down because it was so run-down, but then never was, and I planted them in my own yard in pots. They were amazing, coming up where I put them and as if they were commanding the ground, strangely seeding or helping other violets to suddenly come up where they were never even planted. Today my yard at my present move from that old place, is also absolutely full with giant (I kid you not) violets. For me it is symbolic in this crazy time we are all going through, to never give up on life and living fully because the earth, even though we have mismanaged it for centuries and likely eons, is still living and growing with all it has. What a wonderful thing to see, and as you noted so beautifully, for Nick, who had a part of his own life cut short, to blossom into so many wonderful areas. How inspirational for all of us in these crazy times and to help us remember that even when part of the earth is not well, life still goes on in some places, and it always will. This earth we were given is a true miracle. Thank you Sue for this magical writing, and thank your son for being such an adventurous young person and never giving up on whatever part of life he still can love and nourish and learn from. You are all so amazing. Always with love to everyone who writes here, Anne
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Thank you, Anne. Even in such gloomy aand scary times, we need to remember that life is happening.
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