A Perfect Thing

It seems we are always pursuing perfection. I have found in every moment of my life I am looking at the facts of the situation and wondering how I could have made them better; more perfect. There seems to have been an underlying sense of dissatisfaction in most every aspect of my life. I have always striven for the all important perfect. But what is perfect? What does it mean?

In most every life question, I can always refer back to Dorothy in THE WIZARD OF OZ when she says, "If I ever go looking for my heart's desire again, I won't go looking any farther than my own back yard. Because if it isn't there, I never lost it to begin with." I believe these words are the most profound ever uttered. And the funny thing is that we head them as children, and it has taken decades to understand what they mean: PERFECTION IS ALREADY HERE. YOU ALREADY HAVE IT. IT IS NOT OUT OF REACH, IT IS IN THE PALM OF YOUR HAND.

I had this epiphany this morning in the Provincetown Garden. Walter and I were letting Partner have a few more peaceful moments in bed while we took care of business. It was dawn, and the birds were in full voice. An amazing chorus with one soloist who was overjoyed to be alive and see the sun come up again. This was perfecion.

We went for a walk and saw a crowd of three hundred crocus tucked into a sunny corner. This was perfection.

I spent some time clearing away the old battered foliage of the Lenten roses (hellebores) to reveal the new leaves and buds unfurling. They are the color of ruby and leather and are just waiting for this warm sunny morning to reach up and show their perfection.

Last night we saw the stars as clear as diamonds, and again, located Orion's Belt. This is perfection.

It is amazing how much perfection is all around us, and yet I feel a frustration of "not quite" in my daily routine. I am the most critical and judgmental of myself, but yet I am not really paying attention. I am not "looking in my own back yard." Perfection is here, now.

Struggle and frustration and dissatisfaction lead to dis-ease in one's life. I spend so much time wondering why I feel tired or exhausted and unwell because I have been struggling all day ---- then, "BINGO" it hits me -------- IT IS ALL OK. EVERYTHING IS AS IT SHOULD BE RIGHT NOW. EVERYTHING IS IN DIVINE RIGHT ORDER. EVERYTHING IS PERFECT AS IT IS, RIGHT NOW.

So, my frustration of not cleaning up all the dead perennials in good time lead to protection for our song birds this morning. The music we heard was coming from the brush I had not cleared away. Everything is in perfect order. Everything is as it should be, right now.

A Gentle Plea for Discretion - February 28, 2010

I am paraphrasing a title from the eminent garden writer, Mirabel Osler, when I ask for a 'gentle plea'. At this time of year I am keenly reminded of what it means to be discreet. Late winter is a time of subtlety and discretion. Changes are going on in the quiet thawing moments, and unless we pay close attention we can miss the true joys of the season.

I love wandering the garden in the quiet hour of dawn and seeing what i can find peeking through the frost. Our puppy, Walter, can be extremely helpful in finding these newly emerged treasures, although he still needs to perfect a gentle touch. Last fall we added to our colonies of snowdrops (galanthus elwesii & galanthus nivalis) by planting a few hundred tiny bulbs under the hedges. Now I know that sounds daunting to the uninitiated, but planting 200 tiny snowdrop bulbs can be undertaken in an hour after lunch on a beautiful October afternoon. They only need to be planted 3 inches deep, so it requires no more muscle than any of us possess and several bulbs can be dropped in one hole to speed the process. I like walking around the garden with my little paper bag of bulbs and planting them in the nooks and crannys so they surprise me in these grey flannel days of winter. Nothing can improve the spirit more than finding a clump of snowdrops in bloom on a February morning.

These are tiny blooms. These could be missed by the hurried or impatient. These winter jewels require the observer to be aware, to slow down and pay attention. When you notice them, it feels as though you have been let in on a secret; something special that not everyone is privy to. They are the epitome of subtlety.

We also discovered another beauty by reading Elizabeth Lawrence's 'THE LITTLE BULBS'. It is crocus tomasianus (known as "tommies" by seasoned gardeners). This is a species crocus, which means, it occurs naturally in the wild. It is not a technicolor, overblown hybrid that shouts at you from the street. It whispers. This crocus is the pale lavender like the inside of a clam shell and appears translucent in morning light. To tell the truth, I had forgotten where I had planted these, and it was not until I was doing some cleaning a few weeks ago that I discovered one perfect bloom tucked into a sunny corner by the front door. My heart jumped, I sat down, and i realized again why I gardened. This crocus will multiply on it's own, and a cluster of bulbs will become a carpet in due time........a magic carpet.

This is a 'gentle plea' to slow down and see.......to let the true magic of this time reveal itself to you. Each chartreuse bud on the willow, each tiny nose of the emerging daffodils, each subtle sign let's us know the miracle of spring. Things change.......not only in big dramatic sweeps, but sometimes one tiny bloom at a time.

Long Overdue

Hello from a cold and very quiet Provincetown. It is February 6, 2010 and it has been many months since our last installment. It is strange how time slips by when you are not paying attention.......but i have been paying attention, and it has slipped by anyway. It has brought me to the idea of how we measure time. How do we feel the passage of time? I have always thought that gardeners were good time keepers because every day is growth and change and difference. The cycle of the year is inherent in our work.......we follow the passage of the seasons as a matter of instinct. Dahlias are dug in November, snowdrops bloom in January, tomatoes are planted on Memorial Day.

But the presence of new life is the trueset time keeper of all. The children in our life have made us the most conscious of time, but we see our kids periodically so the daily subtleties are lost on us. We see the giant spurts of growth; the summer-to-summer, the holiday-to-holiday and they have come to be markers of years rather than days or hours.

We have brought a new puppy into our world, much to the varying opinions of many of our friends and relatives. Now being men of a certain age, the idea of raising a puppy should have been cause for more concern on our parts, but sometimes ignorance is bliss. I have always loved that saying "over-analysis leads to paralysis". I am a big believer in being prepeared, but after a certain amount of months or years of preparing, you had better move or stop talking about it. We had always told people we were dog lovers, yet we were the ones without the dog. So we made the jump on November 15, 2009 and brought home our wire-haired fox terrier named Walter.



Raising children should be restricted to the young. There is a reason we are at our sexual peak when we are young enough to handle the consequences. The process of caring is exhausting. It is easy to be self-centered. It is easy to only care for one's own needs. To be concerned for another's welfare, or a puppy's life, can be exhausting. Many times during these past months, Partner and I have told the parents we know that we don't know how they do it. A puppy is a challenge, but how do you raise a human? It has taken us out of ourselves. It has made us aware that there is a life that is depending on us to be loving and caring and protective. It is also amazing how it takes two humans to raise one puppy (at least in our case). Now credit needs to be given where credit is due, and Partner has taken on the roll of disciplinarian and structure-keeper. Partner gets up for the "pee breaks". Partner is in charge of portioning out the food. Partner is attuned to Walter's every nuance. I, on the other hand, taught Walter how to sit. I let Walter drink too much water so he peed twice in the same place on the new carpet. I let Walter chew on sticks that may (or may not) have given him indigestion. Divergent parenting skills aside; it takes a village.

November and December were something of a blur. Three hours of sleep a night. Lots of paper towels. But every time when we were wondering what the heck we had done, Walter would cock his tosseled little head and curl up in our lap. So the rug is a gonner. So the socks all have holes in them. He is an absolute joy. He has grown so fast that we didn't even see it. Neighbor had to tell us how tall he had gotten. We have to go back to the first puppy pictures to compare the before and after. the puppy is slipping away and the little dog is taking shape. Time moves fast. It feels like he was just wrapped in a towel in my lap coming home for the first time.

So why, some might ask, would a gardener get a terrier? Unless I am able to train him to plant tulip bulbs instead of dig them up.....that may be a good question. But Partner and I have always had good timing. By the time Walter has grown into early adulthood, the first daffodils will be blooming and we will have established some communication skills. Now I do not live in a fool's paradise. The favorite shoes have gotten chewed, and I am sure the cherished lily will be broken off at some point.........but what cost is this? In the middle of a hectic, nonsensical day with humans, I look down at the teeth marks on my wing tips and think of the little one who will lick my face and be happy to see me whenever I walk through the door. And maybe the tulips weren't planted in the right place to begin with?

The garden is quiet under the cold. How did the universe invent so many shades of grey? The whole world looks like a watercolor wash. I love winter. It makes me stop and see and appreciate. I love to discover the first hellebores coming into bloom. I love to see the light coming through the miscanthus. I love laying on the couch with the fire going and Partner sitting near me and Walter asleep on my chest.

Life is good.