Loved this! The Garden as a Metaphor is something I have returned to time and time again for grounding, understanding, and a place to let my tears drop and plot into the soil. I am so glad for you that your research into the little seed packets and their needs brought you to yours. Walk ON!
Oh Rebecca I loved this!! Your words were brilliant and captured that feeling of being trapped and needing to move and the winter doldrums making it so hard to break out! Thanks for bringing that feeling to life. I am just like you in that walking = life and brain power. I can hardly form my emotions without walking to help midwife the process. I'll come back to this one many times ❤️
Feb 4, 2023·edited Feb 4, 2023Liked by Rebecca Holden
Oh, now I am, Rebecca, as you know, a grower. And as the days lengthen, I find myself in the still dark late afternoons and evenings, amid sprawling graph paper, satisfying black pencils with white eraser tips, and my collection of wartime (minor obsession) gardening books.
Funnily enough, only last night, I was pondering on the sale, in the 1940s, of pea and bean seed, *by the pint* ! I know! You took along your own jug! How glorious!
Apparently, modern seed is more regulated, quality controlled, and germinates a great deal more reliably, so our mere envelopes are plenty for a family.
But just see, bean seeds, like thoughts, can not only breathe, they can *pour* , and *flow*!
Should we ever meet, I'll stand you a pint of Scarlet Emperor!
Great food for thought here. I agree with you that there is a link between creativity and exercise and being out in nature is so good for clearing away the cobwebs and coming up with ideas. I'm lucky enough to be near a range of hills near Edinburgh and am hoping that my walks in the hills will help me to, at last, get going on my too many projects for this year!
Excellent metaphor. I would think there are many of us who feel this way about the onrushing spring after the series of dark winters we have endured. To spring 2023!
Yes! You really can feel the first signs of spring if you look hard enough. Just the glimpse of a little warmth in the sun this morning is enough to bring the feeling of hope and regeneration that spring always brings.
I do wonder whether February might be my favourite month. If it’s not February then it’s May with all the green that it brings. No scorched grass by that time and everything growing fast. By February is like a box of goodies that is just starting to squeak open. The promise of new life to come. A feeling that we are nearly there.
You’ve sparked some thought here, Rebecca. I’ve been walking all winter (treadmill in my office), but I haven’t been outside much, which is murderous for my creativity! I hadn’t realized it until just now.
This week I saw through the window some paperwhites that had bloomed, and the Japanese Magnolias are also in full bloom. And the little snowbells that pop up beneath the fig tree are making an appearance. It seems so early, doesn’t it? Yet, today we will make it to 62 degrees with lots of sunshine.
We’ve had a very rainy January, so I’m looking forward to getting out today for an adventure. Ours will be a drive through some backroads to find new places to explore on foot. I think I’m bringing along my pocket notebook (and leave the digital on in the car) in your honor.
The other gardening-related concept that I’ve applied in the past when I’d be frustrated with the lack of ideas emerging from the previously plush gardens of my mind was letting things lie fallow. Farmers do it, rotate crops to another plot, to allow regeneration of nutrients in a field.
Maybe this period was your fallow time, and now a new crop is ready emerge. I’m excited for the bounty 😊
It’s a cool -42°C with the windchill this morning here, since an arctic air mass decided to come calling - not unheard of for my part of the world. But a little colder than normal. And since it’s been chilly this week, I’ve been missing my morning and afternoon walks around my hospital. My brain feels trapped too.
You reminded me of a childhood memory about bean seeds: my parents are not gardeners, but we had neighbours who definitely were and took it upon themselves to try to encourage us. They would bring bounty from their garden (very welcome) and seeds (tossed in the junk drawer). We had a bunch of loose seeds in the drawer, just sitting in a cup. They were very pretty, black with a little lavender splash. My mom had me go plant them in our front box one day. They turned out to be climbing beans.
The neighbour was delighted. We were not. My parents were horrified, they had to go buy trellises and these beans seemed to defy our neglect.
As both a killer of plants (seriously, I would LOVE to be the person who browns my food, but I'm a failure) and a runner who took up the activity in my mid 30s, I connect with this so much.
I'm finally walking again after navigating some chronic back pain that made it impossible. Even the little loop near our house feels an adventure, but I hope to work up to more wild spaces. The connection between brain and body and nature is a fertile one. It's almost magic the way the ideas surface.
Nice Job. I look forward to the change from winter to spring too. There is nothing I can add to the comments that have already been posted, so I will stop here.
Gorgeous metaphor here, Rebecca. This is especially powerful: "...I’m thinking that any ideas and thoughts that are on the scale of a runner bean seed can hold their own. They’re not the ones that are trapped. It’s the little ideas, the tiny seeds, that are stuck inside a packet and need a little shake." And perfectly summed up by your last three lines! So nice. You actually made me want to get outside and exercise. Almost. I find I always do my most strenuous walking tomorrow. Thanks for this. Sharron at 🍁Leaves
Loved this! The Garden as a Metaphor is something I have returned to time and time again for grounding, understanding, and a place to let my tears drop and plot into the soil. I am so glad for you that your research into the little seed packets and their needs brought you to yours. Walk ON!
Oh Rebecca I loved this!! Your words were brilliant and captured that feeling of being trapped and needing to move and the winter doldrums making it so hard to break out! Thanks for bringing that feeling to life. I am just like you in that walking = life and brain power. I can hardly form my emotions without walking to help midwife the process. I'll come back to this one many times ❤️
Oh, now I am, Rebecca, as you know, a grower. And as the days lengthen, I find myself in the still dark late afternoons and evenings, amid sprawling graph paper, satisfying black pencils with white eraser tips, and my collection of wartime (minor obsession) gardening books.
Funnily enough, only last night, I was pondering on the sale, in the 1940s, of pea and bean seed, *by the pint* ! I know! You took along your own jug! How glorious!
Apparently, modern seed is more regulated, quality controlled, and germinates a great deal more reliably, so our mere envelopes are plenty for a family.
But just see, bean seeds, like thoughts, can not only breathe, they can *pour* , and *flow*!
Should we ever meet, I'll stand you a pint of Scarlet Emperor!
Great food for thought here. I agree with you that there is a link between creativity and exercise and being out in nature is so good for clearing away the cobwebs and coming up with ideas. I'm lucky enough to be near a range of hills near Edinburgh and am hoping that my walks in the hills will help me to, at last, get going on my too many projects for this year!
Excellent metaphor. I would think there are many of us who feel this way about the onrushing spring after the series of dark winters we have endured. To spring 2023!
Yes! You really can feel the first signs of spring if you look hard enough. Just the glimpse of a little warmth in the sun this morning is enough to bring the feeling of hope and regeneration that spring always brings.
I do wonder whether February might be my favourite month. If it’s not February then it’s May with all the green that it brings. No scorched grass by that time and everything growing fast. By February is like a box of goodies that is just starting to squeak open. The promise of new life to come. A feeling that we are nearly there.
You’ve sparked some thought here, Rebecca. I’ve been walking all winter (treadmill in my office), but I haven’t been outside much, which is murderous for my creativity! I hadn’t realized it until just now.
This week I saw through the window some paperwhites that had bloomed, and the Japanese Magnolias are also in full bloom. And the little snowbells that pop up beneath the fig tree are making an appearance. It seems so early, doesn’t it? Yet, today we will make it to 62 degrees with lots of sunshine.
We’ve had a very rainy January, so I’m looking forward to getting out today for an adventure. Ours will be a drive through some backroads to find new places to explore on foot. I think I’m bringing along my pocket notebook (and leave the digital on in the car) in your honor.
But first...coffee!
Gosh I loved this. Like I always do your words.
The other gardening-related concept that I’ve applied in the past when I’d be frustrated with the lack of ideas emerging from the previously plush gardens of my mind was letting things lie fallow. Farmers do it, rotate crops to another plot, to allow regeneration of nutrients in a field.
Maybe this period was your fallow time, and now a new crop is ready emerge. I’m excited for the bounty 😊
Winter claustrophobia opening space for sprouts of spring...I actually found myself taking a deep breath or two while I read this!
It’s a cool -42°C with the windchill this morning here, since an arctic air mass decided to come calling - not unheard of for my part of the world. But a little colder than normal. And since it’s been chilly this week, I’ve been missing my morning and afternoon walks around my hospital. My brain feels trapped too.
You reminded me of a childhood memory about bean seeds: my parents are not gardeners, but we had neighbours who definitely were and took it upon themselves to try to encourage us. They would bring bounty from their garden (very welcome) and seeds (tossed in the junk drawer). We had a bunch of loose seeds in the drawer, just sitting in a cup. They were very pretty, black with a little lavender splash. My mom had me go plant them in our front box one day. They turned out to be climbing beans.
The neighbour was delighted. We were not. My parents were horrified, they had to go buy trellises and these beans seemed to defy our neglect.
As both a killer of plants (seriously, I would LOVE to be the person who browns my food, but I'm a failure) and a runner who took up the activity in my mid 30s, I connect with this so much.
THIS - this bit is one of the best things I’ve ever read... “My ideas need space and movement.
My thoughts wither without air and energy.
And without my walks, I’m lost for words.”
♥️ thanks so so much!! ✨💫
I'm finally walking again after navigating some chronic back pain that made it impossible. Even the little loop near our house feels an adventure, but I hope to work up to more wild spaces. The connection between brain and body and nature is a fertile one. It's almost magic the way the ideas surface.
Nice Job. I look forward to the change from winter to spring too. There is nothing I can add to the comments that have already been posted, so I will stop here.
Gorgeous metaphor here, Rebecca. This is especially powerful: "...I’m thinking that any ideas and thoughts that are on the scale of a runner bean seed can hold their own. They’re not the ones that are trapped. It’s the little ideas, the tiny seeds, that are stuck inside a packet and need a little shake." And perfectly summed up by your last three lines! So nice. You actually made me want to get outside and exercise. Almost. I find I always do my most strenuous walking tomorrow. Thanks for this. Sharron at 🍁Leaves