Taking Root

I was never a gardener. I didn’t have time. Or didn’t make the time. As a retiree, time is not an issue. We surely have the location.  According to my green-thumbed neighbors, our new yard has the best soil they’ve ever seen.

So certain of our soil, they pick out plants, deliver them, and plant them for us. Our soil is now nurturing several newly acquired oxygen generators – a fig tree, a bay tree, and four laurel bushes. I’m especially watching to see if the four laurels take root; they are supposed to grow tall and fast.

At the same time, I wonder how quickly and firmly I will take root in our Tar Heel soil.

Did we find our garden spot? And, can I, will I, take root here, especially after decades in one area and an extensive root network so many miles away?

With the laurels, it should be clear-cut. Taking root requires the essential ingredients of soil, light, and moisture.

For a person, it’s more complicated, but you can substitute a plant’s soil, light, and moisture with home, health, and heart.

Hearth, or home, is shelter and, ideally, more than protection from the elements. We feel safe and secure in our stone house surrounded by trees and, more importantly, surrounded by friendly neighbors, notably those experienced, helpful gardeners.

Two, health, and that’s a big challenge for us as it is for our entire cohort. We are working on it. My husband got a new hip “installed” right after the laurels arrived. I’m exercising my creaky knees. My eyes are on the prize:  mobility.

Three, heart. We are lucky. Ira Gershwin had it right about “Someone to watch over me.” My husband and I are together and working at riding these waves of transitional waters.

But, back to the laurels and soil, light, and moisture. Scientists and researchers are learning there may be more to plant sustenance. There are mysteries still.  Right now, there’s an experiment about talking to plants. Except it’s modern talking and the Denver Museum of Nature and Science, along with an ad agency, are calling for people to Tweet to a plant. Fortunately, there’s some traditional communication involved, the Tweets are read out loud to the plant – no propped up smartphones; they might block the light.

The Denver experiment provides an important lesson. As I strive to take root in new soil, I need Tweets or any communication, traditional or trendy, to sustain me as I explore my new territory. That takes work and me texting, calling, emailing, even writing my friends who are important to me, wherever they are. My smartphone has been an unexpectedly valuable lifeline.

Lesson two comes from earthworms.  A recent report in Science Magazine said scared earthworms help plants grow. When beetles are nearby the worms migrate deeper, breaking up the soil and bringing water and nutrients. 

Perhaps the earthworms are telling me, “Get out of your comfort zone!” Confront the unfamiliar. Dig deeper. Both may be needed to take root in unfamiliar soil. In short, I’ve got to put myself out there if I am to meet new people and start new pastimes. 

And, that’s scary.

Yet, the piano teacher, the photography instructor, the political activists, and others … none are going to come knocking on my door to ask if I would like to participate.

It’s on me. I’ve got to turn toward the light.

So, I started with two of my “Ps” (October 3, 2013) – Pilates and politics. Okay, I substituted yoga for Pilates, but how could I resist the opportunity to work on balance and flexibility and strength at the aptly named Yoga with an Edge.

It’s a start. 

And, like our laurels with their nurturing soil, my new community's warm and welcoming people encourage me. 

While it may take a growing season or so, I am hopeful the laurels and I will both fully take root.