About

We moved into a new house with a neglected garden at a time in my life when I found it hard to get out of bed.  Life had punched me in the gut a few too many times and I was reeling.  Going out in the garden, first, simply letting the sun warm my feet, then exploring the nooks, crannies, trees and slopes took me back to being a kid wandering the fields of Morgan Hill, picking wild chamomile and fennel flowers.  Then I started seeing things I could do, and realized nothing could really go wrong — I might plant something in the wrong place, but I could remedy that by moving it.  I began spending more and more time in the garden, planning it, digging in it, and occasionally wandering the garden nursery aisles between other errands.  A day not spent there became a dreary day, so my time there became therapeutic.  This blog is exploring my amateur approach to my garden, and sharing my observations on how the life of the garden reflects our inner life.  I don’t know if anyone is reading this, but if you are, I welcome your input as well.