Liminal

The sun rises, the sun sets, the world revolves around the sun. Seasons come. Seasons go. We plant a seed, nurture a sprout, tend our gardens. For many, Harvest is not the only goal; the journey has been as important as the produce. 

Before Elk

Gardening is a balm for the soul, a way to connect with nature, to commune with the Creator. Gardening not only takes us back to our roots (Please note: all puns are included at no additional charge, enjoy!) we can also impact the future. Planting a garden is an act of faith. Planting a tree is a dream for the future; Hope, incased in bark and branch.

Spring. Summer. Autumn. Winter. Each season has its own delights, carries its own challenges. But every gardener knows there are more than four seasons. There are the seasons that exist, in-between the big four; liminal seasons that are neither fish nor fowl. First Thaw, Indian Summer, those not yet one, not quite another.

The dictionary defines liminal as a threshold, the act of crossing over but not yet arriving. Every morning I wake to a garden that looks different than the one I went to bed accepting. Elk come in the night and further ravage what I thought was safe. I find myself living on the threshold between rage and despair. The liminal razor’s edge.

After Elk

This week alone, the elk have come up my sidewalk, up to my front porch and eaten the begonias I had sheltered there. Begonias. They don’t even LIKE begonias. This morning I awake to find they have come up on the back deck and eaten my pots, up-ending and uprooting them. These pots---mind you—are sitting out of reach from the lawn. These pots have been my solace from the destruction of my flower beds in mid-July. Well, I tell myself, at least you have your flower pots. Except, no---I don’t. The wretched beasts have come up ON MY DECK to destroy my hard work, to trash my great pleasure, to annihilate my peace.

So, I am liminal, caught between rage and despair. It’s small comfort to remind myself that I garden to connect with nature and by golly, nothing says nature like survival of the fittest. It’s fight or flight time. Stay tuned.