Traced Elements

Tag: garden therapy

Garden Shadow

I am not a scientist (although my current course on soils may turn me into one). Nor am I a psychologist; at best I’d classify myself as a horticulturalist. There is one thing I have come to acknowledge more then ever over the last few weeks… my dog’s intuition is more on point then most people I know. She came with the name Shadow and it suits her to a T – LITERALLY.

So, allow me to introduce you to #shadowruffruff.

(Need a laugh? Follow this Hosta lover’s hashtag on Instagram for guaranteed good times.)

Here’s the skinny. Shadow was surrendered to the SPCA in Prince George where her puppy life was basically non-existent; she was quickly moved to the West Vancouver division for rehabilitation. We fell in love with her photo on their website and promptly pinned it down Hwy 99 from Squamish to meet the then 2½ year old Black Lab x Boarder Collie. Instantly we knew she’d be a perfect fit for us and she’s been melting hearts ever since.

She is not stick or ball obsessed (thankfully). She didn’t swim until she was 4 and it’s only because there was a duck to chase. Her ability to find food and crumb around is so good she should be paid for cleaning the floor. She is extremely smart and loves to tell stories. She took up minnowing at age 10 and has been a pro field mouser for years. She is nearing 13 now and still loves to come on biking, ski touring and hiking adventures. She is showing minimal signs of slowing down. Maybe she’s stubborn like me. Grey hairs you ask? Nope. Only a few visible on her chin but most are hidden on the bottom of her paws. A lady never tells or really shows her age.

(Minnowing obsession, recovery biking, Chief Pascal ski tour & Rohr Mt. summit)

You might be wondering how this plays into gardening but be worried not for this hound loves veggies as much as the rest of us. When I crack my container snack vegetables she’s usually at my feet before the lid is off. I have to pack extra knowing she’ll eat half of what I brought. But don’t try to feed her kale unless it’s been massaged because she’ll look at you like you’re crazy! Smart dog. You have to watch her around the blueberry bushes, raspberries, strawberries and cherry tomatoes; anything at her level is fair game. She is a phenomenal forager. And, of course, all the thinned out carrots rightfully belong to her dirt and all.

Since my bike crash I have been tripping over her even more times then I can count. A friend gave her the nickname “Underfoot” for good reason. I have been spending most of my time in my garden healing my concussed brain because that’s what feels good and Shadow has been there every step of the way. Therapy dog. Keeping the cats out, barking at the deer and warning me when the bears are close long before I actually see them. Again, her intuition is impeccable on all levels. She is the keeper of my garden, paid in full with vegetables.

Besides, someone has to test out the fresh raked dirt to ensure its level.

May 12, 2018
Blank Canvas

The summer I turned 11, my family packed our camper and set off on a massive adventure that lasted over a month. The leg of our trip that resonated the most with me was the coast of BC. There was something about the mountains and ocean that spoke to me – it made me feel free. I vowed right then that I would return to live in this place.

Life on the west coast became a reality when my art skills got me into the University of Victoria. However, I quickly discovered I was not like my classmates and had zero desire to become any entity that encompassed being an artist. I lasted 2 years before I bought a car, learned to drive standard in a mall parking lot and set forth for Whistler because it seemed like a cool place to go and get lost.

Fast forward to my years in landscape construction and maintenance where I learned design and plant knowledge and in time I was let loose to create spaces for clients. These playful experiences naturally paired well with my understanding colour and sense of flow. Eventually I realized that I was still creating; it was just a different type of medium.

Now I spend countless hours every year drafting my garden plans for the following season. Notes on notes on notes as to what was great, what was horrible, where to plant what, what not to plant, what I want more of. Lots of mindless staring out the window at my plot fantasizing its potential; then scavenging bits of wood and rocks to add into the landscape. And, like clockwork when it comes to planting time, the plans that have come to fruition are loosely used and I stuff seeds and starters in the beds as I see fit.

Maybe it’s the old artist in me coming out to play and wanting to just be free to experiment with what feels good at the last minute. This is an integral part of the learning process in gardening and I highly encourage it. Sure we can read books and learn what we should or shouldn’t do but at the end of the day if we are satisfied with the results then, who gives a shit.

Feel it out. Plant what makes sense. Plant what you love. Look at your space and see it as a blank canvas in which to create your sanctuary. It can be whatever you want it to be. Let it evolve. You can always return to your canvas and paint over something you don’t love.

Eighteen year later since arriving home in the Sea to Sky I have finally accepted that I’m a gardener and a landscaper: an artist after all.

Photo notes – The main photo (above) was taken out the window when I moved into our current residence from where I sit every day drinking coffee. The picture below was taken this morning and I can guarantee in a month it will look even different. Stay tuned!

April 24, 2018
Honor Thy Weeding

It’s funny how life can throw us curveballs when we least expect. Call it coincidence that I have struck out during a season that literally celebrates rebirth and renewal. But as the saying goes; everything happens for a reason. What has kept me sane is my garden.

When you’re forced to slow down in a life that is typically robust it’s truly hard to cope – every day brings new challenges. Many of which I am not comfortable with and have had a hard time accepting.

So, what does an active gal do when forced to step outside of her skin and just be?

She sits with her garlic. She weeds. She envisions where all the little seedling starters will eventually go and thrive. She checks on these seedlings at least 20 times a day. She walks and appreciates the revival of the forest after a long winter. She watches the ants. She buys plants (retail therapy for the win).

A calming sensation genuinely lifts me up when I’m gardening. It’s my therapy. No stress involved – just the dirt and me. It has always been this way: before I was concussed, now while I’m concussed, and indefinitely when I’m past it.

There is something to be said about stopping to smell the roses. Going back to the simpler things gives us a greater appreciation of the bigger picture. Through my minor setback I have learned the importance of this phrase and will celebrate it beyond my recovery. Gardening has an effortless way of healing.

Spring. I surrender my ego to you… and the weeds in my garden.

April 18, 2018