Winter winds blow garden philosophy

As I write these words, I find myself immersed in far too many negotiations.

I am involved in a number of projects that also include many others, and the sad truth of the matter is there are many right ways of doing things and we humans rarely agree on what the right way is. So we haggle, discuss, disagree and eventually make decisions, always with concessions on someone’s part. When I consider the extent that compromise plays in our lives, I find it somewhat amazing that we can get anything done at all.

Compromise, of course, is nothing new to gardeners, but some are better at it than others.

It starts, I suppose, with acceptance of the fact that our gardens have their own minds, causing them to go off in directions we did not anticipate more times than not. If we are willing to receive our gardens for what they are, it frees us to relax and enjoy them. The relaxation, in turn, allows us to give back, and when we do, an interesting thing begins to happen. With each act of sharing, both the gardener and receiver are connected in a web of benevolence. For any of you who have shared with others the joys of your garden, you have given happiness. Those on the receiving end are humbled just a bit and have been put into your debt — just a bit. This vulnerability keeps us thankful and wanting to give out — and the web continues.

Walking is my standard for contemplation, and as much as I love to walk with my dogs, all I really have to do to be lost in thought is to close my eyes in a quiet place. Soon I am in the woods, in my garden, on a gravel riverbed; almost anywhere the light is bright and growing things surround me. Once there, I think about how much I love to see the tulips peep out in the spring and how happy one of my clients will be when she sees those many hundreds of bright yellow daffodils pop out of the thawing ground. The thought of her delight brings me pleasure. Not the pleasure of accomplishment; rather, more that fuzzy warm feeling we experience when we see someone else have true joy.

This time of year I can’t help but think of how much I love the winter, with the ice, snow and the cold. While the wind can be nasty, there are many nastier things.

I am thankful for the wind. It blows moisture around in the most mysterious ways, brings many branches to the ground that are useful in flower arrangements and it cleans the parking lots quite nicely. It sounds serious and scary and makes my dogs prefer to be indoors with me, which makes me happy. I love to have a good doggie cuddle on a cold day.

Wind is my friend. It keeps my mind active and sharpens my senses. I love the way it shapes trees and shrubs along the high river banks, making them look like enormous bonsais planted by some silent giant.

My mental wanderings make me consider that good gardeners and good givers are much the same; they must both learn to receive in order to flourish.

The gardener who is at peace with the gifts of the garden — the little surprises, the unexpected turns of design — has learned to receive with grace and joy. Having learned this, these gardeners are often the most eager to teach without criticism as a new gardener struggles with dozens of puny seedlings, desperate for a knowledgeable companion and guide.

It’s not hard to see the connection between joyful gardening and joyful living. Constant criticism of our gardens and surroundings can put us in a disgruntled cycle of inaction. On the other hand, an honest evaluation of our gardening failures and acceptance of people and experiences we don’t understand can teach us to be indebted and give us humility. No matter how much we are tempted to inwardly judge, it is counterproductive and ultimately sucks the joy from our lives.

Perhaps by spring we will have unlocked the gardening philosophy blown in on the winter winds. Perchance, we will learn to release the eye from always seeing the flaws and allow it to see the beauty. This, and a good glass of wine, should have us ready for seed shopping in no time.

Spring is just around the corner.

Sally Koppenberg is a garden and food designer. She is the owner of Stonehill Gardens and The Red Beet, nursery & catering companies specializing in Alaska Grown foods, trees, shrubs, perennials and native plants. Contact her at stonehill@gci.net.