Sunday, July 23, 2006

The days are long

Many a thing is not spoken regarding what it is to be a mother. Perhaps the negative is too scary a thing to embrace or uncover. I felt many things those first five months and perhaps the most overwhelming was the sheer sparse loneliness. In my diary in those early days I described that loneliness… “ it first creeps; then it lingers. It is not an absence- if only it was! No, it has a presence. An incumbent fat-arsed presence. it has moved in and will stay so far as the days are long.”

What pulled me out of this loneliness? My garden. Oscar ate dirt and I put my hands in earth and hoped to grow things that we could eat. I gardened by day and by night dreamed of gardens. It was a beautiful existence. When you have a garden things fade into that little niche under your armpit that I call Unimportant. The days weren’t long enough. When my garden started to take flight I felt the most serene contentment I have ever felt. I also felt the closest to the Great Gardener that I have ever felt. I was reliant on Him in a way that I never have before- I asked for contentment and He gave me a garden.


Emma said...

hello garden girl!

i worked out how to link and linked to you! i feel very proud of myself though have not done a scrap of marking...

Even though neither of us particularly warm to Drusilla Modjeska she does say some cool things about gardening. I'm thinking of The Orchard - describing Ettie's garden:

"...walking the pathway through Ettie's garden, taking whichever direction appeals, with no compulsion to travel first here, then there, following paths with their twists and turns, sudden vistas, hidden corners, it is as if one traces the course of one's own interior life, meandering through its dark corners and spectacular views, its dangers and comforts, its loves and withdrawals."

If I ever write a post-modern novel about the self (is there any other kind?), I might use that as one of my epigraphs. Then everyone will think I love Drusilla Modjeska and it will be my little secret that I don't...

andrew said...

Hi Rach,

Thanks for the post - I love the way the gardens at your place blend with the landscape, kind of nature and art working towards one another.

I'm a bit romantic towards gardens - lots of intention and dreams - but the reality is weeds and tortured, malnourished plants that point their sticks at me accusingly as I walk in the front door ('You did this!')

The only thing we've done right is somehow grown Super Rosemary that scorns all predators and neglect, and bought a push mower instead of a noisy, petrol-driven chopping beast mower. I avoid the fumes and noise, and get comments from passers-by! (as well as funny looks)

hey, maybe I can trade you lunch for gardening advice?

Captain Wolf said...

Hey Rach,
i love your blog and the way that people feel free enough to express themselves in an amazingly personal way in such an impersonal medium. You write really good. My blog is the victim of some neglect, mainly i never get back to posting on it for some silly reason. Maybe it only existed as a way to connect and post the thoughts/conversations that i would have had with friends if we were on the same continent. Maybe now i have more pressing issues to computer about. Maybe i should just shut up and post something... Hope life is full of gorgeous moments that continue to grow into more happiness.

Jane said...

That's why it's not fashionable but I love Bruce Dawe's 'Homo Suburbiensis'. Do you remember that one from Year 12? Even my indoor plants offer solace against the fumes and stench of the passing traffic. One day you must come and have a bath at our place and you can pretend it's a conservatory. Or a jungle.