There is something so incredibly heady and refreshing about the scent of freshly harvested mint, that makes you want to close your eyes and let it permeate your senses. It lingers long afterwards, clinging to the tip of your fingers and wafting past your nose like a sliver of nostalgia. It comes to me one evening as I was harvesting my crop of mint, that I was actually seeing instead merely looking. I was beginning to paying attention to the things around me and the way my senses responded to it.
Gardening demands your attention, not little-distracted pieces of it, but being fully present both in body and spirit. It nudges you to enjoy the process, without the assurance of a happy future. Not all the saplings we plant or the seeds we sow grow into healthy plants. Gardening comes with its own set of failures .So then, we must nurture our happiness by enjoying the process and sprucing it up with healthy doses of hope and dreams, as it is with life.
Gardening opens up a whole new world of wonder, which I had been hitherto blind to. The way the texture of the leaves of each plant, differs from the other, almost as if it were its fingerprints, the bittersweet petrichor that emanates, as the first drops of water touch the soil, parched from the scorching summer sun, the taste of the freshly harvested produce; crisp and delicious with undertones of distilled sunshine. If purity had a taste, it would be this.
|Bounty from my terrace garden|
“Only this actual moment is life” - Thich Nhat Hanh
Gardening makes me realize this every single day. It is like a whiff of petrichor for my parched soul.