Garden Gems

There’s a real love affair going on in the schoolyard garden, and I can tell I’m not the only one. I don’t know if it’s spring, or our new flower garden, or our new ‘farmer’s market’ but what was once a Friday afternoon gig is now an everyday affair.

I can’t keep them away.

Which is fine with me, because in a garden, polyamory is permitted. In fact, the more the merrier!

Okay, okay, I don’t mean to sexualize the schoolyard garden. At all. Cross pollination and the bees take care of that. But the garden herself does magnetize all of us to her. The kids, the parents, the overworked and underpaid nannies who come to sit next to a pot of blooming rosemary.

In the garden, we seem to have developed different ‘departments.’ I have not organized any of this. At all. They’ve self divided and pollinated (Mendel would be proud) and seem to run their own show. There are the girls who only like to sell at the farm stand, the kids who love to package the wares to sell, the girls who like to pick posies and tie them into each other’s hair (and mine – which I love), the boys who like to pummel an old dead tree branch with garden tools as though their life depended on it (I let them do this when the other teachers aren’t looking), the ones who like to water, the worm researches, the harvesters, the eaters and this awesome kid named Alex who is pretty much one of the coolest kids ever because his favorite thing to do is clean up and organize all the old crap that I leave till ‘tomorrow’. Thanks Alex!

I cannot begin to express the joy that this entire little operation brings. And it runs itself. That’s the amazing thing to observe. With so much emphasis placed by adults on ‘real world’ rules, regulations, management, marketing, sales and production, I say come on down for an hour and just observe these kids. They are natural organizers, business people, stewards of the land.

I am not teaching this. I just open the space for it to happen.

They have a natural curiosity for caretaking and an inherent understanding of the basic business principals of barter and exchange. This is the farm stand’s third week in ‘production’ and we have made over a hundred dollars…selling lettuce leaves and lemons, people. With that money I purchased a new plum tree, paint for the benches and jasmine bushes (three) to cover the hideous chain link fence. And I still have a few bucks burning a hole in my pocket.

A couple of weeks ago a dad in a business suit came by to check things out. He offered his ‘suggestion’ to divide the garden crew kids into teams to ‘inspire them to work harder.’ I had to work hard not to drop an expletive on him. Are you kidding? They have divided themselves and are as inspired, hard working and productive a group as I’ve ever seen…naturally. This, by the way was the same guy who took oranges and herbs from our little farm table, but didn’t have any money on him. Really? I used it as an opportunity to teach the kids about the ‘honor system.’ It took him two weeks to pay me back the $3 he owed the kids, and yesterday, when he sheepishly took a $5 bill from his wallet, I took it from him and thanked him very much for his $2 donation to the garden.

Yes, it takes all kinds. That’s what makes life, and the garden such an interesting place.

Nowhere else I’d rather be.

Air & Honey

You come in like that.
A flash of light
In a sky of grey.
A drop of dew
Rolling off a melting mountain.

You are
Narcissus and chamomile
Blanketing the waking hillside.

The fire
That can’t be extinguished.
The song
That can’t be silenced.

Come closer
Unfurl freely inside a vessel
That’s ready to wake
The sleeping canyon.

Feed me
Pollen and air and honey
Sticky sweetness
That only spring
Can bring.

{JV 3/6/13}

bejeweled in jasmine

serenaded
by six am love birds

dressed
in cotton and cashmere

bathed
in rose oil and sea salts

bejeweled
in jasmine and garlands of soft
pink peach petals
that foretell a fortune
of riches to come.

{poem/photo: JV 3/3/13}

Valentine’s Day Poem

“Bookends”

Sun and moon.
Maté and mint tea.
Kiss and kiss.

These are the bookends to my day.

And I’m always looking for you
Somewhere
In the middle

Of this beautiful love story
Called
My life.

from Ginger Roots, Plantings of a Future Dreamer

Fruits & Flowers

There is something so heart achingly gorgeous to waking before sunrise and seeing the miracle of another cycle of life take place right before your eyes. As I make coffee or tea – or both – I watch the ebony sky turn sapphire and then turquoise and then swirl itself with streaks of coral and mother of pearl. The birds are chirping (sometimes I swear I hear owls), and the budding light starts to dance on the celadon and moss green-colored plants, trees and vines that vie for my attention.

All of this is the backdrop to an overflowing table of abundant beauty that is my ‘canvas’ as I begin my day. To this writer/gardener/poet/cook there is simply nothing like a still life of fruits and flowers. As steam dances from my teacup, I contemplate the rainbow of colors and textures laid out before me. I think of the farmers who patiently planted; the pickers who took the fruit from the tree; the sun and rain that went into it; and the fact that I not only get to visually enjoy all of this beauty, but I get to feed my body with it as well.

Life overflowing.

I’ve been romancing myself a lot lately. I don’t mean like that. I mean taking the time with myself to do the little things that I’m realizing make a big difference. Slowing down. Writing long-hand in my journal twice, not just once a day. Getting lots of rest. Hiking. Savoring beauty. Setting out bowls of fruit on the table like paint on a palette. Not just cramming them into the back of the fridge.

None of these things cost any money. The price is simply valuing oneself and making the time to do that which pleases you. Not waiting for anyone to give you that which you can only give yourself. When it sit in my dining room in the early morning I’m transported to some magical old world in Paris or Tuscany…maybe even Casablanca or on an island somewhere that nobody has heard of.

It’s ecstasy, and each day is a new opportunity to travel somewhere new, letting my heart guide me on this gorgeous journey.

Where are you travelling to today?

Borage Boys

You cannot spend even a little amount of time in a garden and not be transformed. Even the most cynical people seem to soften amongst the plants.

Gardens teach us that transformation, growth, evolution and (especially) composting what has come before is all a normal part of being alive on this earth. Not just normal – necessary.

But we forget these things as we stay transfixed by technology – glued (slaves) to our ‘smart’ phones, facebook, texting and twitter as a means to stay connected and inform us about ‘reality.’

Puh-leeze.

There is no deeper connection than to Nature Herself. The silent beauty of witnessing a seed break open to become a sprout and then reach for the sun to realize its fullest glory is beyond description.

And this is us.

Internally, externally, every day, if we choose, we are doing this work. The work of planting, watering, waiting, breaking open and sharing our deepest most beautiful (and sometimes darkest) parts. It’s messy, real, raw and the rewards are endless, if you are open to it.

Of course, I don’t discuss ‘these types of things’ in the schoolyard garden. I’m just the garden lady with the plastic badge and sun hat, passing out shovels and seeds.

But I sit back and watch. And I see everything.

Lately, I see the eight year old boys who, outside of the garden, talk endlessly about the video game “Plants vs. Zombies” and who have a special affection for bathroom humor, spending more and more time in the garden. And what, exactly, are they doing?

They are obsessed with eating the edible flowers.

Yes. They can’t seem to get enough of them. Marigolds, violas, broccoli flowers, borage. These dirty wild animals (I mean students) become filled with grace and wonder as they step through the garden gate and discuss which petals taste better and fight over who gets the yellow or purple pansy.

It’s delightful, adorable, humorous and yet another example of how Nature is truly our greatest teacher, and giver of gifts. Especially the unexpected ones. Like the boys eating borage as I sit back, mind my business, and stick yet another seed in the soil.

Happy planting.

La Abeja

The year is winding down, and I am grateful. Love, loss, immense joy, tear your heart open beauty…2012 did not disappoint!

I often think of my friend, the bee lady, who passed eight years ago, and who is still a central symbol in my life – a muse – for love, kindness, support, optimism and joy. I think of her whenever I see anything bee related.

Bees symbolize pursuing your dreams, no matter how impossible they seem and enjoying the sweetness of life (honey) after hard work. Certain cultures saw bees as both symbolic of the soul and messengers of the gods (and between worlds). The ancient Egyptians placed jars of honey in their burial tombs for sweetness in the afterlife.

I for one want to create, share and enjoy as much sweetness as possible in this life.

Yesterday on Christmas, when all was closed and the streets of Los Angeles were blissfully empty, I made my way through a new neighborhood to a new friend’s house for tea – she’s also a bee lover. I almost missed it, but there was La Abeja on a nondescript city street on the way to my destination.

There are sweet messages – and messengers – everywhere, you just have to be open to receive them. For me, yesterday, La Abeja was there to remind me of that: to keep moving forward, to keep creating and pursing that which makes my heart sing, in my own quiet, personal way. “Messages” don’t have to hit you over the head, they can be(e) simple, gentle reminders that you are held in love, headed in the right direction and to keep moving forward because there’s a new flower and sweetness just around the corner….

Thanksgiving

One stitch
A blanket to cover you.
One seed
A field to feed you.
One word
A page to profess this love for you.
One life
Enough time
To bring what really matters
To fruition.

poem/photo: Jill Volat 11/21/12

Dusk

The light changes
I hold my breath.
A break
Between what was
And what’s to come.

Two sides of the same canyon
Spread
Like wings
Of one bird
Headed in two directions.

One side reaches for light
The other for darkness.
Sun lowers to earth
Phoenix rises
Within.

poem/photo: Jill Volat 11/20/12

little things

Sometimes it’s in the little things.

And sometimes it’s in the big things.

But today…it was the little things. Little moments of grace, gratitude. Metaphorical seeds planted for next season’s harvest. Faith and moving forward. I’m hungry for what’s next.

In the schoolyard garden that I still tend during summer break, I am grateful for the solitude, the quiet and even for all the weeds that need my attention.

I fucking love those weeds.

They are clear, decisive, transparent. Easy.

There is no debate as to whether they are ‘good’ or ‘bad’ for me, they simply do not belong mixed in with the bed of strawberries.

End of story.

I fucking love those weeds.

They make it easy for me. No decisions to make, no problems to solve, no bigger life choices to contemplate.

Just grab, pull, toss. They take me in like a gentle old friend who doesn’t ask any questions and who lets me just sit on the couch with a cup of tea, in silence.

I fucking love those weeds.

It was a ‘productive’ morning in the garden, mostly of doing nothing in particular, except removing the weeds (inedible) from the food (that which nourishes me). In other words, removing obstacles (I glance and smile at my tiny crystal Ganesha across the room as I write these words).

Remover of obstacles.

This morning, on my way out of the garden, I snipped a little bouquet of catnip and oregano flowers and grabbed a tiny cluster of tomatoes that had fallen to the ground. A beautiful, rustic little offering from the garden that I gratefully displayed in my home.

Much more weeding to come…