“Go placidly amid the noise and the haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence. As far as possible, without surrender, be on good terms with all persons.”
These opening words from Max Ehrmann’s 1927 prose Desiderata (Latin: “things desired”) have demonstrated their quiet influence over me and my family daily for a quarter century. Faded slightly, they persist, resting in an aged brass frame perched on a shelf. The first words hold me together during tumultuous times like these, but admittedly I struggle being on good terms with all persons.
It is the tumults that illustrate our differences of course, and I wrestle with them. Wrestling mentally in silence works for me, and nowhere is the silence more deafening than in a garden, or in nature. “Garden on it” works better for me than failing miserably at sleeping.
I share this in defence of the thousands of seedlings that have somehow appeared on the benches of our old unheated greenhouse and in flats under lights in our pantry. So much time spent “peacing it out” this winter season of discontent has yielded much for sharing, and so many conversation-opening opportunities.
Each year, we grow more and we share more. The act of gifting plants, produce or homemade pickles even, creates space for conversation and exposes common ground. What I am learning is that there is a grassroots groundswell of Canadians taking food security, human health and environmental stewardship into their own hands. Many are doing so quietly and cautiously, but once discovered they are happy to lean into the growing community.
Growing and sharing has revealed so much goodness in so many people otherwise occupied to distraction by too much distraction. Who knew that the salty boatyard guy was a closet microgreens grower and vegetable dehydrator, or that the ever-patient flag lady who commutes daily from Abbotsford has started an allotment garden to offset organic produce costs?
Sharing keeps us connected to friends and neighbours, affording time to inquire about family members by name. Growing community, like growing plants, takes some effort. But it also insulates us from the noise and the haste. Growing community exposes the goodness in people, helping us put back the pieces of a planet and economy being torn apart by too much of everything, too much noise, and too little peace.
Today will be a very good day for our garden and for me. Three yards of living soil will arrive this morning, and assisted by its maker, I will spend several hours getting my hands very dirty topping-up our raised beds, tiny orchard, berry patch and container gardens. The doing of this quietly, together, will catch us up and ground us into a future of possibilities for growing and sharing even more.
I can’t wait to tease apart the too-tightly-knit-together bundles of arugula, mustards, lettuces, brassicas, pollinator flowers, root vegetables and alliums that are calling for release from their winter sowing boxes. They are of course hardy and ready for cold soil. Tender plants sown indoors must harden off yet, transitioning to sheltered outdoor space before settling in the garden.
My inanimate garden helpers – the dozens of five-gallon RONA buckets that have helped me move mountains – stand at the ready to return the mycelium and biologically rich hemp and leaf mulch that I removed cautiously to excavate drip irrigation sunken over time.
And so it begins. Another season of growing, sharing and putting back the pieces. I will try to do better at being on good terms with all persons. This means, of course, more time in the garden.
Laura Marie Neubert is a West Vancouver-based urban permaculture designer. Follow her on Instagram @upfrontandbeautiful, learn more about permaculture by visiting her Upfront & Beautiful website or email your questions to her here.
For a taste of permaculture, watch the video below:
