THE GRATEFUL GARDENER

by Tim Kennelty

Gardening with Gratitude and Hope

I remember years ago attending a talk on house plants by Tovah Martin. https://www.tovahmartin.com/ Ms. Martin has written several books and is an accomplished gardener. What sticks in my memory about that talk is something she said about the month of March. She said (and I’m paraphrasing) that as the long winter comes to an end, the light in March is completely different. 

I guess I’m reflecting on this because this week in March, two years ago I was diagnosed with stage 4 gastric cancer. Although I had been experiencing some other ominous health issues, the news came as a shock to me. I was told by my oncologist that the cancer was very aggressive and although it was not curable, it was treatable. Another doctor at the time told me that my cancer was so aggressive that the treatment may not work, and that if I was lucky I might have nine to twelve months to live. 

Why am I talking about cancer in a gardening column? Well, gardening to me is all about gratitude and hope – both of which have meant a lot to me over the past two years.

Gratitude

Gardeners are naturally grateful people. They cherish their patch of earth, not by fawning over a sea of sterile grass, but by nurturing bright blossoms loved by the bees and butterflies. My diagnosis was a gift – really – providing me with a unique perspective of a finite life where the future meant days, weeks or maybe months. And over time I experienced an overwhelming thankfulness and gratitude for things large and small. I appreciated the doctors who treated me and especially the angels of mercy, the nurses who have cared for me with true empathy and kindness. And, I’ve been blessed with an amazing support system of beautiful friends and family whose love has carried me to this day. But something else that has been crucial in lifting me up through the dark days has been my involvement in local gardening and nature efforts, like Taghkanic Talks, the Community Forest, the Nature Calls podcast, and even having free rein to write this column. I’ve had the good fortune of working with engaged, compassionate and kind people, and I have come to realize and appreciate that we have an amazing community of individuals who care not only about the ecological health of our small corner of the world, but also about their friends and neighbors.

Looking back on my journey over the last two years I realize how fortunate I have been to have enjoyed beautiful gardens, spectacular natural surroundings and kind and generous people. I’ve tried to slow down to appreciate and cherish the truly precious moments in life, something I know we all try to do, with little success. I’ve also made an effort to tell people how much they mean to me – from the nursery owner whose plants gave me joy, to the friends who have given me comfort and made me laugh. It’s a good thing to do even if you don’t believe your time is finite. And finally, today in this moment I am grateful to be here writing this column and to know you are out there reading it.

Hope. Gardeners are also among the most hopeful people. To plant a gnarled bulb on a brisk October day and believe you’ll be rewarded with a glowing daffodil bloom the following April, and to stick a twig in the ground and expect a mighty oak, that takes hope. As I look out on the March landscape with that very different light that Tovah Martin described, I have gratitude for a multitude of things, but I also have hope. Hope that I will be here another season to see the rosy red maple blossoms brighten the gray woods, the twitter of the first phoebe to arrive in my yard and the joyful songs of the peeper frogs. I have hope that I’ll be standing in my garden with you on a bright July day in the warmth of the sun, watching the fritillaries dance above the swaths of  coneflowers and listening to the forest birds sing their haunting songs.  And truly, I have hope for so much more. My oncologist recently told me that having lived two years, I’m an outlier. And so I’m not ready to put away my garden trowel just yet.

One more wish, if you’ll indulge me… to be here when the world becomes a little bit more sane and when kindness becomes the norm, not just in our small community, but in our country and across the globe.  One can always hope.   

That’s all for now. Stay warm, happy and healthy and remember to plant native! 

For comments about this column, gardening topics you’d like to read about, or general gardening questions, you can reach me at: tjkennelty@gmail.com