By Rev. Judith Laxer

September arrived suddenly. Serious harvesting and preserving continues. The season demands our attention or all will be for nothing. Like how the worms got to two of my three apple trees before I did. If, like me, you can’t possibly eat all those tomatoes, you might find yourself on a Monday morning cooking up what cooks down to just one quart jar of marinara, canned and ready for a pasta dinner some cold, dark, winter night. And wasn’t it fun to make it with only ingredients you have grown- onion, garlic, oregano, basil, thyme, and marjoram? All those pears made delicious, complex chutney. A big bowl of tomatillos sits on the table waiting to become sauce. Carrots, beets and parsnips remain underground for the chillier soil to sweeten them. Striped Delicata squash now share the fruit bowl on the counter. And the ever-hardy cabbages and kale promise late autumn delight. As the days grow visibly shorter, my big, bold horseradish is a treat for the eyes. And the sinuses!

The season beckons me to reflect as I gather. How did my garden grow? What have I learned? What did I miss? Some things grew really well, others not so much. For all their big-leafed sprawl and plentiful flowers, when all is said and done, there is only one cute but lonely pumpkin. Same with the pepper plants, even though I put them right there where they got the most sun. Only one on each. They’re pretty, but I won’t be spicing anything up all that much with a single red pepper. And despite having three zucchini plants, I didn’t get nary a one. Nary a one! Which is crazy because zucchinis practically grow themselves.

Each year brings its own successes and failures in the garden: the sure bets that don’t come through, the unexpected surprises, enough sweetness to share and a precious few to hover over and protect. Allies. Predators. Beauty. Rot. Flowers. Pests. And all the while, the cast offs are steadily composting, integrating, becoming the foundation for what will come next. As I shake the poppy, foxglove and lychnis heads to make sure their seeds kiss the earth and are received, I believe I am somewhat securing what will come next. A girl can hope.

This Planting A Life column installment closes the loop on one year. Writing it has crystalized for me that the condition of my garden and the condition of my soul are sweetly similar. It has shown me what needs more attention and what to leave be. It has caused me to ponder and reflect on how the garden is a perfect metaphor for all of life. Each year brings its own successes and failures. We set our goals like we plant our seeds. We tend them or forget them like we do our crops. We feed and water them. Sometimes too much, sometimes too little. I’ve come to know that all I do in the garden is soul work. And for all my big plans and great effort, it really doesn’t matter if anything I plant comes to fruition. It’s my relationship with the earth that really matters. Because we are made of the same stuff.

It’s time to let this column go dormant and enter fallow. It’s been delightful writing it. Thanks for reading it. If you need me, I’ll be in the garden.

Rev. Judith Laxer is a modern day mystic who believes that humor, beauty and the wonders of nature make life worth living. She is the founding Priestess of Gaia’s Temple, an inclusive, Earth-based Ministry with over a decade of service. www.gaiastemple.org, www.judithlaxer.com

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