Plants Communicate

Our little garden is teaching me. It talks and I listen and hear. Plants communicate.

For years I cultivated the earth where I lived. Then, after the death of my oldest daughter, Naomi, I lost interest in many things, divorced, and began years of traveling alone. I did not feel attached to places or things. 

Now, only in the last two years have I begun gardening again—albeit on a small scale. Amy and I share the enjoyment.

The goal in gardening is to bring a plant to fruition. That may be for flowers, vegetables or fruit. Some public gardens are decorative, with full time staff and entry fees, others are on family farms. 

I have begun longing for a life where most of my time is spent communing with nature. Cultivating, listening, then responding appropriately.

Unless native and wild, plants need tender care from beginning to end. The soil must be fertile and able to hold moisture and convey nutrients to the roots that feed the stems, shoots and leaves. Proper light is necessary for photosynthesis. Too much sunlight and heat can damage some plants. A gardener has to watch carefully . . . the plants show what they need by the way they grow. 

Pumpkin growing on a vine

People need similar loving care from beginning to end. 

Like plants, people need from the beginning shelter from storm and drought, loving nutrients to the roots, appropriate sunlight of guidance and education, space and training . . . states of being that promote growth and fruition. Contrast that to conditions too often seen in our world of humanity; barren circumstances, neglect, no “sunlight”, pests and attackers. 

Our problems are mostly of our own making. 

Lettuce and spinach under shade tent

When will our society become the beautiful garden it is meant to be?

Bountiful Harvest

Outside the cottage on my parent’s property stands an orange tree laden with fruit. The oranges are so plentiful that the limbs hang down from the weight. No one picks them, and so they fall to the ground to rot in the shade. Each day, as I pass the lovely tree that is so healthy and has dutifully provided its bountiful harvest, I feel as if the tree is speaking to me, begging me to take its offering, almost as if a gift is being proffered, and as I pass by, I can almost hear myself say with a tinge of guilt, “no thanks.” My parents sometimes eat oranges, but only one per day, and the tree has hundreds of fruit. My mother explained, “when I was stronger, I would take oranges to the homeless shelter.” Yesterday I collected a big sack and gave it to my sister when she visited. When I leave for Santa Fe on Tuesday, I will take a couple of boxes of oranges with me.

Hurrah! After all the travails with my laptop breaking down in South America, I have it back and completely refurbished. What a relief. I have been working on my photos form Brazil and Argentina.


I am like the orange tree, offering fruit to anyone who stops to enjoy it . . .