Let's Reframe: By Degrees

Fixing Things

6/25/2020

 
Picture
Sweet Woodruff and Little Oak Trees Photo by ERSwett
Bliss.
Mixed textures.
Heavenly shades of green.
What's not to
​love?
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A crowded garden bed Photo by ERSwett
But those
large green leaves
are mini-oaks, taking over
a place not prepared
for ​trees.
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Taking Action Photo by ERSwett
Is it
magic - - 
these pesky acorns
becoming vibrant sources of
shade & food? Maybe,
but they've
got to
​go...
Picture
Room to Flourish Photo by ERSwett
...to make
room for this Sweet
Woodruff, a dainty & mighty
medicinal herb & groundcover. I love
this kind of work. The problem
is clear & the solution
simple.
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A problem with water Photo by ERSwett
The
problem
of rain barrel
drainage in the veggie
garden was equally clear, but
the solution more complex than pulling
a few 'weeds.' But again, it's
such satisfying work.
The solution
​elegant.

Picture
Rain managed Photo by ERSwett
As happens,
though, solving one
thing leads to another. Like
this wonderful scented shrub whose
name escapes me. It was great when first
planted, but it's now outgrown
that spot, creating a 
barrier & not an
invitation.

Picture
A flourishing shrub, just in the wrong spot Photo by ERSwett
With
the right 
tools & care,
it's not so hard
to make a
​change.
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A flourishing shrub in a new home & an invitation to enter Photo by ERSwett
There
is power in
transplanting and
re-imagining a plant or
a space or even an assumption
about how things are meant to be. I 
feel that way all the time in the
garden. There's the vision
& then there's
​reality.
Picture
Honeysuckle vine, tended over time, fills the corner Photo by ERSwett
And
sometimes
that reality is like this
honeysuckle, planted to fill
& beautify the corner of the garden
that happens to be adjacent to the compost
and happens to, over time, look
amazing on both sides
of the fence.
Picture
The abundant honeysuckle adds beauty to the composter Photo by ERSwett
As I free
the blueberries

& liberate bounded roots,
I am grateful for unexpected flourishings.
Amid the seeming chaos & disruption of transplants
& fixings, there are places where things
work and where beauty
​exists.
Picture
Herb Garden, Early June 2020 Photo by ERSwett
Honoring
these places feeds
me & gives me
 strength for
the next challenge inviting a solution.
And sometimes the solution involves nothing
more than patience, as the herb garden
reveals between the beginning
and the end of June.
Picture
Herb Garden, Late June 2020 Photo by ERSwett

Rootbound

6/12/2020

 
Picture
Rootbound Photo by ERSwett
This
is perhaps
the 100th shrub
I have planted in our yard
during the past decade, and this
tight tangle of roots gets me every time.
Not all plants are so completely
ensnared, but most ​seem
to be at least this
rootbound.
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Sometimes
aggressive action is
necessary because it is
absolutely essential to free the
roots from themselves. If they remain
entangled, the shrub will never
be able to settle into
its new home.
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Earlier
today, when
I held this particular
plant and gently worked to
free ​the roots, I thought of how
hard it has been to liberate myself from
the constraints I created as a result
of ​expectations of all kinds,
some from within &
some from
​family.
Picture
Once
I hit 50, though,
my confidence with clippers
increased significantly in the garden and
in my life. Experience showed me that it really
is OK to cut free some (but not all) roots
in order ​for a plant, or for me,
to grow.
Picture
A plant
will thrive in 
its new home when
its roots are free & it has the
water & nutrients it needs. As I write,
I am increasingly curious about what roots I
may choose to cut so that I can participate fully in
conversations about climate, race & our
nation's structural inequalities
that limit our collective
capacity to
thrive.
Picture
Who knows
what ​beauty will emerge
from this call to dig even deeper?

Freeing the Blueberries

6/11/2020

 
Picture
Blueberry shrubs in Lyn's garden. Photo by ERSwett
It's easy
to ignore the 
blueberry bushes.
I can't see them from the
house or from the gardens close
to the house. A few years ago they were
productive, but they've never
been ​abundant, so I
end up kind of
​ignoring
them.
Picture
Trying to free the blueberry shrubs from the grass in Lyn's garden. Photo by ERSwett
Until
yesterday,
when they called
for attention. As I am
apt to do, I dove in, slashing
the grasses 
with my Japanese Hori
Hori 
gardening knife, madly
giving those 
poor
plants some
​air. 
Picture
Diving deep Photo by ERSwett
On the
first bush, I just
cut back the grass; On the
next one, though, I focused on one
section, pulling up grass by the roots. It was
harder work, especially since we're having a drought
and the soil is compacted and dry. But as I 
said, I was in one of those "I have
take care of this NOW"
kind of moods.
Picture
Perspectives on a blueberry shrub. Photo by ERSwett
When
I stopped for
some water, though,
my 'yay me look what I've
been doing' moment became 'oh
no, there's so much more.' How often do
I focus on one part of a thing and
feel great about it, until I
​notice how much
more there is
to do?
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Making slow progress with the blueberries. Photo by ERSwett
That's
how I feel
right now with all
that is happening in our
country and around the world.
It is easy to ignore things I can not see,
whether because they are actually
out of sight or because I
have such a narrow
point of
view.
Picture
More work. Photo by ERSwett
There ​is
no quick fix
for these struggling
shrubs. They need so much
more than air and space. But after
the superficial grass removal & my one
'deep dive' with that one bush,
my hands ached and I
needed to
​rest.
Picture
Admiring the shrubs, 1 Photo by ERSwett
But
when the
rain stopped this
afternoon I went to visit
those same bushes, this time
with my camera. In that cool late
afternoon light that cast such appealing
shadows, I stopped disparaging these forgotten
shrubs and instead paid attention to their actual shape,
colors and texture. 
Buried in 
those demanding &
overpowering grasses, though, these
blueberry bushes revealed

poise & resilience.
Picture
Admiring the shrubs, 2 Photo by ERSwett
 But I felt
sad & really bad
that I had not actually
provided them the nutrients
& care they needed to thrive and I am
sure they were annoyed when I whispered
"please be patient. The entire garden is calling. I'll
be back." How could they not be annoyed? They know
that in recent years 
I have only paid attention to them when
blueberries are in season (when there's something in
it for me); They also know that I have 
been
disappointed ​with their production
even though I have 
obviously
been ignoring their
​needs.
Picture
Admiring the shrubs, 3 Photo by ERSwett
 As I
created
these images
& whispered those
promises, I could feel their
skepticism & anger. "Yes," they're
probably thinking, "you do have a lot to
manage. But you planted us in the first place.
It really is your job to figure out how to not just
admire us, but to also do what it takes
so that we & all these other plants
can thrive in this garden
of your design &
​making.
Picture
Admiring the shrubs, 4 Photo by ERSwett

Meaning in the Garden

6/7/2020

 
Picture
Ready to Work, 2020 Photo by ERSwett
There's
work to do 
at home and all
around, so we've been
working - digging & mulching,
pruning & planting. It
​feels good to
​work hard.
Picture
Yard sale Bird Surrounded Photo by ERSwett
And
even though
these phlox are out
of control and need attention,
I'm OK with their extravagant abundance
because five years ago, there was
nothing in that particular place
but a neglected corner
of the terrace.
Picture
Purples on the hillside, 2020 Photo by ERSwett
Those
lupin blew over
from a neighbor's field,
but the comfrey by its side and
those chives behind were intentionally
planted to increase soil fertility on what was once
a rocky dry hillside. These woodland phlox, so different
from those flowers surrounding the bird,
thrive in a space that was once
a pile of sticks.
Picture
Woodland phlox in the shade of river birches. Photo by ERSwett
These
phlox and
this myrtle (or
Vinca Minor) have
finally merged on the
hillside by our driveway.
5 years in the making,
this space is, at
last, feeling
whole.
Picture
Merging groundcovers in the front. Photo by ERSwett
I am
grateful
to my garden
for reminding me
that neglected places
can be transformed. There
just needs to be a plan, focused
attention, and patience to
let what will emerge,
​emerge.
Picture
Bearded Iris planted in 2018 - - finally coming into their own. Photo by ERSwett
Purples
are beginning
to share the stage with
other colors, like these white
flowers on a lone Hawthorn tree that
is abuzz. It was for these pollinators that we
created this garden in the first place, so hearing them
in action gives me hope and purpose as I
go outside to get back
​to work.
Picture
Pollinators in action on the Hawthorn tree. Photo by ERSwett
    Picture
    Lyn Swett Miller
    ​
    reframing the narrative, one day, one image at a time
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    compost re-imagined
     Let's ReFrame: By Degrees
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