Accidental Gardening

 The other grandmother in our family once used the phrase "accidental gardening" and I liked it, as it applies to so much of what goes on here at my north Georgia place.

The photo shows my, not so great looking compost, which needs some expert help.  I once heard a gardener on radio WSB say that having a compost is so easy, you just pitch any fruit/vegetable scraps and grass or greenery onto an out of the way place and it will compost itself.
So that is what I did for a long time and just left it there, mostly I just did not want to put peelings, etc. into the land field.

Then my son-in-law suggested he make a new one in a different spot and fence it in, etc.  That was a good plan so that is what I am now using.  Proof that I have neglected it hit me square in the face this week when my son-in-law pointed out to me that I had a jonquil blooming in my compost.  I had seen something  green but supposed it would be an onion which had been discarded there.  Not so.  It truly is a jonquil.  But how did it happen?

We speculated about that but came to no conclusions.  He  had seen jonquils coming up near his garden in the Atlanta area, in much the same surprising way.  My best guess is that when I trimmed the old dried flowers from my jonquils in front of my house, I must have thrown them into the compost.  There must have been some seeds already formed in at least one of them, thus the several jonquils coming up right where they had been thrown.

For me this is a first in traveling jonquils.  I have other plants which reseed themselves and present new flowers in odd places but never before jonquils.  In fact Jim's idea that the birds had planted the seeds may be the best  answer, as I saw another jonquil blooming far from the others down in the front near a big curve.  I had orange day lilies there but would never have put jonquils up next to the trunk of a  tree where these are growing.  So, let's blame it on the birds, or shall I say that accidental gardening has taken over where I had let down my guard.  Yes, I like that.  It does sound a lot better to me.

Scars

A scar by definition is a mark left on the skin after a wound has healed.  There are other scars however which are not readily visible, as emotional, financial or environmental scars.  What I am thinking about today are the scars which we collect on  our skin.

I began thinking about this kind of scarring when I meditated about why I did not like to own a dog.  Most people like to own dogs and have more than one such pet.  What came into my mind is  a far away memory when I was so small that I was being held in someones arms.  There was a little puppy in the room and I reached for the puppy but my outstretched hand was stopped in mid air by when it hit the searing, hot side of a stove.  From that incident I carried a scar on the back of my left hand for almost all of my life.  So long in fact, that I had forgotten about it but somewhere in my memory box it surfaced this morning.

Meditating brings up related incidents and I thought of  another burn.  I was burn.running on a cold snowy day, slipped and  landed on red hot coals which had been dumped on a  slope.  That accident also left a scar, on my right leg midway from my knee to my hip.

Some years before that, before I could walk, I was in a walker which had wheels and I was happily pushing myself all over a porch which had a flight of steps down to a flagstone walk.  I was probably too young to know where I was heading and I went right over the top step and on down to the ground.  The scar I collected that time is under my chin and still faintly visible when my skin is pushed around.

The only other scars I collected were left from a surgeon's knife.  A no doubt, inexperienced doctor, left a long scar on my right abdomen.  It was  emergency surgery caused by an infected appendix.

Other smaller scars that I lay claim to  are not as prominent, due to improved surgical techniques.  I carry scars inside of me which cannot be seen by me.  They are scattered all over my lungs and are the result of many lung infections.  By the time a skilled doctor  discovered the cause of the frequent infections I had already accumulated too many for my own good.

So, I live with them, those scars which are a part of me, that are not noticed, and rarely come to mind.  They were caused by  wounds which have healed over.  All of us have scars left from wounds which heal and are forgotten.  The emotional wounds which we collect are not so easily healed and are hidden from view.  Some we take great care to hide, some we are not aware of and carry them with us and thus they  influence us forever.   If only meditation could heal them also.