Monday, October 12, 2009
In July, I was granted a garden plot in the Bayside Community Garden. I hadn't gardened since I was a teenager, at my Aunt's house in Belgrade, where I planted seeds, weeded, shoveled chicken and horse manure and helped to harvest corn, tomatoes, and other vegetables, along with boxes of strawberries and raspberries from a large raspberry patch. My father did a lot more of the work than I did.
So it was both exciting and nostalgic for me to tear up the weed-ridden bed and get to work. There were already three apple seedlings and some "volunteer" tomato plants. One of my fellow gardeners dug up a huge catnip plant he didn't want and delivered it to my newly tilled soil. My sister Jane gave me an abundance of herbs and flowers from her gorgeous front lawn garden: Sweet Annie, peppermint, spearmint, lemon balm, feverfew, echinacea, bee balm, iris, day lilies and foxglove. These were safe to put in -- the resident woodchucks didn't seem very interested in my herbs. I supplemented these with some purple basil, oregano. French lavender and a strange plant with brilliant red flowers called "bat face," that I got at the farmer's market. Once I managed to get stakes and a chicken-wire fence in, I put in some lettuce and spinach. I made a common beginner's mistake with the spinach -- I was so excited when it grew, that I couldn't bear to thin it out. Nonetheless I got quite a bit of tender lettuce and baby spinach.
The small amount of gardening I did so late in the year was very pleasing. I'd forgotten what wet dirt smells like, or the delight of seeing fat earthworms wiggling in the ground, aerating the soil. The minute I set the catnip in the ground a multitude of bees landed on it. The herbs all grew well and I soon had fresh basil, lemon balm and oregano to cook with. I brought home peppermint, Sweet Annie, lavender and catnip, tied it in bunches with yarn and hung it from my kitchen window. My tiny apartment kitchen soon looked like a witch's hut. Whatever I couldn't use fresh, I dried. Did I knew what I was doing? Despite my teenage gardening experiences, not really. And I soon realized that, like many things, it's possible to wing it.
I can't wait to see what gardening adventures next year brings. . . here are some pictures from this year. . .
"Harry Houdini," one of the resident woodchucks, patrolling the garden from under the tool shed.
Huge bunch of Sweet Annie drying in the kitchen.
My neighbor's corn patch.
Sweet Annie, Feverfew blossoms and "Bat Face" flowers in the window.
Fresh lettuce and spinach!
A bowl of herbs and lettuce.
"Bat Face," Purple Basil and Sweet Annie
"Bat Face" flowers, tomatos (they tend to ripen better inside) and Feverfew flowers.
My garden: lilies in the left corner (hopefully they'll bloom next year), tomatoes in the right corner, rows of spinach and lettuce and herbs.
The herbs flourished and will hopefully come back next year.
It's just the right size garden for me.
Some of my neighbor's gardens were so beautiful. I really enjoyed the sunflowers.
First planting of herbs, still lots of weeding to do in the upper half, back in early August.
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
Nine Gates, Entering the Mind of Poetry,
This is a charming book of essays on the aesthetics and forms of poetry, using source material from Greek, Western and Japanese influences. This book contains many gems.
"Behind each jewel are 3,000 sweating horses." -- Zen proverb
Here she quotes the Mountain & Rivers Sutra by Eihei Dogen:
"All beings do not see mountains and rivers in the same way. Some beings see water as a jeweled ornament, but they do not see jeweled ornaments as water. What in the human realm corresponds to their water? We only see their jeweled ornaments as water. . . Thus the views of all beings are not the same. You should question this matter now. Are there many ways to see one thing, or is it a mistake to see many forms as one thing?. . .
It is not only that there is water in the world, but there is a world in water. . . When you investigate the flowing of a handful of water and the not-flowing of it, full mastery of all things is instantly present.
And there are mountains hidden in treasures. There are mountains hidden in swamps. There are mountains hidden in the sky. There are mountains hidden in mountains. There are mountains hidden in hiddenness. This is complete understanding. Therefore, investigate mountains thoroughly. When you investigate mountains thoroughly, this is the work of the mountains. Such mountains and rivers of themselves become sages and teachers."
Fujiwara no Shunzei, 12th Century Japanese poet on the priciple of "yugen":
"A good poem will possess a kind of atmosphere that is distinct from its words and their configuration and yet accompanies them. The atmosphere hovers over the poem like the haze that trails over the cherry blossoms in spring, like the cry of the deer heard against the autumn moon, like the fragrance of spring in the flowering plum by the garden fence, like the autumn drizzle that drifts down upon the crimson foliage on some mountain peak."
Japanese poet Komachi:
" How invisble
it changes color
in this world,
of the huma heart."
" This very body, with all its passions, is itself the body of freedom."
"Only when looked at from a place of asideness and exile does the life of the world step fully forward."
"Journey far enough in the terrain of language and the heart will begin to speak"
"There are things we can possess only by following them into the realm of disguise. There, we may be given a quarry altered, more pungent and wilder and stranger than we have surmised."
"The rivers still roar, the mountains still crash, the winds still shatter. Man is an affair of cities. His gardens and orchards and fields are mere scrapings. Somehow, however, he has managed to shut out the face of the giant from his windows. But the giant is there, nevertheless."
"A savage spirit raging in the dark does not sit lightly and easily through Thanksgiving dinners; it refuses to charm, to acquiesce, to go to bed at a reasonable hour, to bend to the ways of the world."
"In Catholic mysticism there is a path known as the via negativa -- the practice of emptying the self of its own will, desires, and even knowledge, in order that the soul may be filled with God. Poetry offers a similar path."
Hakuin, from the Song of Zazen:
"In this moment, what is there to look for?
This very place is the Lotus Land.
This very body is the body of the Buddha."