These are my people

Gardeners. Who knew? Gardeners are my people, the ones with whom I feel most at home. They can have small or large gardens, balcony gardens, you name it. We click and bond over shared gardening experiences (sometimes failed experiments), types of seeds, what garden store is having a sale, and what we can share with each other. The latter is the most important to me. Gardeners are generous. I have not met one gardener in our allotment garden who hasn't been willing to share plants, seeds, or advice. Yesterday we had our annual Volunteer Day in the garden; we all pitch in to do weeding, raking, clipping, etc. for a few hours, and then afterward we gather together over cake and coffee. It was a lovely day, weatherwise and socially. Such events are important for strengthening the bonds between us and also for getting to know the new gardeners, those who have recently gotten their allotment gardens.

Why do I feel comfortable with gardeners? They are not flashy or chic. There are no in-your-face displays of wealth, even though there are probably a number of gardeners who are well-off. There is no overt competition among us, at least in our allotment garden. I don't feel like I'm competing with my fellow gardeners to 'have the best garden'. Each gardener is an individual with unique ways of expressing their love of gardens, and that is reflected in their choice of bushes, trees and flowers, as well as vegetables. My garden neighbor has tried growing artichokes; this year I'm attempting to grow asparagus. The lack of overt competitiveness is refreshing in a world that values 'being the best', sometimes at all costs. I'm simply not interested; perhaps I was at one time, early in my career. But even at that time, I worked together with colleagues who were more supportive rather than competitive. I'm thankful every day to be away from a work world that values competition and being the best above all else. The falsity of that way of thinking lies in the reality that only one person can really and truly be the best. All the others are accordingly ranked less. And that's ok for me, but it wasn't for our workplace leaders who did not care at all for those whose careers didn't measure up to snuff. I do not miss that world at all.

I know that gardening can be quite competitive; there are contests for having the most beautiful flower garden or for growing the largest vegetables or the most fruit. But like art, literature, and music, beauty is in the eye of the beholder. You can judge the beauty of a garden, but it is a subjective evaluation. There are no objective criteria for what characterizes a beautiful garden. I respond intuitively to gardens that have a 'soul', but that too is subjective and emotional. There is much in our past and in our subconscious that is wrapped up in our gardens and garden choices. For example, when I plant tulips, I remember my mother ordering tulip bulbs from Holland and planting them on the front lawn. The resulting tulips were beautiful. Lilies of the valley remind me of a neighbor from childhood who had them lining one side of her house. They were my favorite flowers for the longest time. Basil and salad plants remind me of a family friend who grew them both in her backyard; we children would pick them for dinner when we visited her. Tomato plants remind me of my friend Jean's father who grew them in their backyard. The tomatoes were delicious. She has carried on the tomato-growing tradition.

As I get older, I am drawn to visiting public and private gardens. New York State is full of lovely gardens--The New York Botanical Garden, Innisfree Garden, Kykuit/The Rockefeller Estate, and Untermyer Park and Gardens, to name just a few of the ones I've visited. There are more on the list and I look forward to experiencing them in the coming years.