Credence of a Green Thumb

Gardeners are a passionate lot. It’s passion that drives all gardeners. From the simplest of activities, such as the sowing of seeds, to the tedious work of pruning a storm damaged tree, the drive to beautify the space around us is an austere, and noble, act of humanity. The eloquence of such a statement seems to place a formidable load to bear on the shoulders of a self-declared weekend gardener who relishes in the simplistic prettiness of a four pack of petunias. It’s also weighty for an elderly gentleman who grows the healthiest, most robust crop of tomatoes each year with monkish devotion. It’s mere baggage for the obsessive plant nerd who delights in the selfish pleasures of collection, organization, and then appreciation for the beauty with which they’ve just reigned over. But it isn’t a haul, a weighty hindrance, or a toted cargo. It’s innate in all of them and all of us because we are gardeners. High philosophy, maybe but surely you’ve related with at least one of the actions of the gardeners above. They’re real people.

Instilling passion within those around us is as much our propagative duty as is the habitual dividing of irises or daylilies. We can’t help it. Such joy, revelry, and beguilement only see fruition in their conveyance to another party. Children, grandchildren, neighbors, or friends all have been the recipients of a compassionate gardener’s will to see such humble, green-thumbed charges bade to a new generation. From callused hands and sun-burnt cheeks has come the onus to break the crust of a new garden somewhere. Maybe it was at church. Maybe it was somewhere in your community. Maybe it was in your own backyard, your own plot where you could plant passion year on year, season on season, generation on generation for whatever reasons you wanted to. Sustenance. Beautification. Jealousy, even. The advent of a new garden anywhere cancels out all self loathing sins which might otherwise taint the good name of the creating gardener. A new garden anywhere is yet another square of earth stewarded for the benefit of the world.

I recently told my college advisor that gardening was all about people. But I quickly added to that statement that gardening, in its primacy, was as much about beauty as it was about people. The two are intrinsically linked. Our idea of beauty has been concocted by those bipedals who we’ve succeeded. Artisans, musicians, politicians, explorers, chefs, religious leaders, mystics, and yes, gardeners have all molded the very human concept of what it means to be aesthetically delightful. Certainly we don’t all agree. Do we ever? Despite the supposed misgivings of those we might consider to have less refined tastes than ourselves, each of us has a truly unique gift at creating an aesthetic marvel that will be appreciated by someone somewhere. I’ll say it again: gardening is all about beauty. All that we do, either with conscious intent or subconscious happenstance, in some way big or small adds beauty to our world. The analytical, ivory tower-based pundits would suggest that a multitude of social problems plagues our world. Some politicians with presidential aspirations have called the solution hope, others simply change. Though not running for any office, or for that matter any contest that might measure the gamut of attachable values to this blog post, I contend that all we need to do to make our lives and our world a happier place is convince people through demonstration that we in fact live in a most lovely world, comprised so in the most abecedarian ways. Here’s my gardener’s manifesto.