chaos precedes clarity

Chaos precedes Clarity 

1. Or so I hope as I cast my eye across the mess which is our house right now. We are  in the middle of getting all the windows cleaned and the outside walls pressure-washed. I had no idea it was such a big job. The bloke - Kev - turned up, as promised, early this morning and stayed all day  but he still isn’t finished. 

The furniture and rugs are clumped  in the middle of the room, the verandah is all wet and messy, and Kev has left his ladders and things here.  And we are having a lot of trouble getting the stupid magnetic fly screens back on the windows. Magicscreens, huh! 

However, I have faith that very soon - say this time tomorrow - order will be restored. D says we just need to remove the blinds to get the screens back on. Just  remove the blinds! Thank God D is so handy. Already the big tri-fold doors and the high-up louvres are crystal clear, making everything beyond ( green paddocks, cows, horizon etc) look brighter. 

I’m trying to find a little piece of homespun wisdom, a metaphor among this domestic trivia. Like how its all a reminder - that often in life chaos and mess are necessary  before clarity and order can re-emerge.

2. Talking of works-in-progress, I went down to the Community Garden today (the aim is to get there every Wednesday morning) only to discover that all my plants were dead.  Shrivelled up by the punishing, 30 degree-plus  heat of the last two days.

But I do not despair! I chat with a woman, S,  at a neighbouring allotment. Her lush patch is well-established and well-loved, though it does not look like the more usual plot of lettuces, tomatoes, eggplants etc. It’s a leafy  green jungle  with Taro and cassava, pawpaw and pineapples (the prettiest pineapples I've ever seen) .

She says she wasn’t really too sure about the ‘instant garden’ approach at the working bee on Sunday. She herself prefers to do things more gently and slowly. And thinks that putting heaps of chicken manure down like that and planting straight into it is possibly not the best thing for the soil, too much nitrogen. I’m inclined to be persuaded by her, as we stand there in our old hats and gardening gloves, surveying my chicken pooh-smelling  plot with its sad and shrivelled plants and flies hovering over it. 

From her point of view there is more to gardening than just maximizing your crop of food. It is also about  our relationship with the earth; and this is something, like all relationships, that takes time to build. We talk about the magic of it all, the sacredness of the Earth, how  easy it is to forget .  S herself  uses Biodynamic methods & preparations only. She says they really nurture the earth. I am already thinking I might do the same. 

Seems everyone down at The Gardens has their own opinions about the ‘right’ way to grow things. Even on Sunday, there were mutterings from those who did not agree with the blitz-it chicken shit plus ti-tree mulch approach being pushed by the blue eyed German man who was the day’s prevailing ‘expert’ . It will burn the plants.  I heard murmured. And This soil needs lime to break it down. Too Yang. Etc.

I’m happy to hear what everyone says, happy to not be an expert. Zen mind, Beginners mind etc. I think - I hope - one of the good  things about this Community Garden is that it can accommodate all these people with their differing opinions and ideas. 

I put up the bamboo trellis (not the one in this pic)  as planned, for the now-dead snow peas and tomato plants. Perhaps when the intensity of the weather and the chook-pooh both subside, I will re-plant. In the meantime  I put in  some yarrow root  - given to me by my Biodynamic neighbour. Good for something but I’ve already forgotten what. 

Then I just sit there for a while, contemplating my relationship with this little square of the earth’s surface, enjoying the rare luxury of stillness. It  feels good not to rush. And good to have gotten started on the process. 

three uke family

Two excellent new things:

1. The Ukulele

It’s such a sweet, simple unpretentious little instrument. I went to my first - beginners’ - class last last Wednesday night. And I’ve been practising every day since - stumbling my plunky way through  “You Are My Sunshine” and “Dream, Dream, Dream”.  I can feel the  neuro-pathways forming,  like new  tracks in fresh snow. Exhilarating. 

Music is something I  do purely for fun. Having spent most of my life believing I was ‘unmusical’, every musical experience I’ve had over the last fifteen or so years has been a bonus - singing in choirs, learning djembe, percussion and marimba, now uke. Unlike other areas ( the things I’m meant to be ‘good at’) with music I don’t judge or critisize myself.  Or  worry that both my partner and my 12 year old son are way better musicians than I am. We have become a three ukulele family.

Of course it suddenly feels like everyone is playing ukulele.

2. The Community Garden

I think I mentioned ages ago that I got myself a little plot at the local community garden. I went down there to interview someone for a promo article on a Permaculture course last November and was so excited and inspired I signed up right away. Then somehow I just never got back there. Guilt guilt guilt, good intentions turn to dust etc. 

Last Sunday there was a working bee. The gorgeous earth mother woman who runs the place  had phoned me on Friday - not to say Get your plot together or we’ll take it back, which would have been fair enough; but rather to offer help. Because it can be a bit daunting, getting started. And it has been so hot. Etc.

It was a lovely drizzle-y, perfect-for-planting  afternoon. Also a perfect-for-lying-on-the-sofa-reading-the-weekend-papers sort of sunday. But D and I both managed to resist the call of the sofa. 

I discovered when we  got there ( it's only 5 minutes away)   that I was not the only slacker who had failed to attend to their plot. A cheery little band of gardeners were there helping eachother. Weeding, pushing around barrows full of chicken pooh and mulch. Taking armloads of weeds off to the chooks. Offering cuttings and seedlings.

I’d bought some seedlings at the market on Saturday. Within a couple of hours my  weed patch was transformed. Cucumber, eggplant, leek, basil, tomatoes plants went in. Marigolds, lemongrass. Easy. It was like one of those backyard blitz tv shows. 

Then a cup of tea and home-made biscuits in the bush kitchen. And that warm glow of community. So now the challenge is to keep it up. Weeding, mulching, stagger the plantings. Commitment, the long haul.

Gardening, playing the ukulele - great antidotes for existential angst.

Oh and I’ve finally mastered the art of compost too...things are looking up.