Stream of Consciousness Gardening

I used to travel on business with some high energy ambitious people.  Being a laid back, thoughtful kind of person, I often enjoyed observing and listening to their antics after a few after dinner drinks.  One young woman (who maybe the CEO of some major corporation by now) would jump from one subject to the next without taking a breath...and then apologize, belatedly, for her "stream of consciousness" barrage.  This was the first time I ever heard the term, nearly 25 years ago now, but the example has been so firmly imprinted on me, I never fail to think of my friend, and how much fun we had together.

Now I have fun relating the concept to my most pleasurable gardening days.  Having a sense of humor about the whole matter is also essential...

The elements are all here for stream of consciousness gardening, intended or not.

Of necessity, I change chores as often as possible.  My body can no longer endure sustained anything...digging, weeding, pruning, raking...but changing up the activity at intervals helps considerably.  My constant search for the right tool facilitates this chore changing ritual admirably.

My half acre garden is on a gentle slope, which I have terraced, and created paths and steps to accommodate carts, wheelbarrows and aging knees.  The potting shed is about half way down, but inevitably I need a tool somewhere else: in the bog, all the way down the incline, in the scree garden, all the way up the incline, or in the potager, all the way across the property.  I have acquired several  of everything (clippers, pruners, cultivating forks, shovels, gloves, etc.), but often while in the quest for the new and improved, so I have many many too many tools that are actually mediocre in performance, that I really should give away or toss. (...run on sentence, or stream of consciousness thought?  :).  The tool I want (the favorite weeder, the best clippers, the right gloves) is inevitably not in the potting shed, but in some secondary, or tertiary storage area, or worse, stuck in the pot or flowerbed that I was working earlier, or yesterday, or last week (I confess, I am also an "I'm-coming-right-back-to-this, so-I'll-leave-it-here" kinda gardener).  The pole pruner hung in the cherry laurel for two weeks before I had the courage to try and trim the cypress (yes, I had to retrieve it from the laurel to even begin).  So I march back and forth, up and down constantly...trying to remain focused on my errand or mission, but always drawn to the plants peopling my path, trying to break my concentration (...prune me! smell me! save me! )  That little plant voice begets the next stream of consciousness segue and chore changer...


The next element that makes stream of consciousness gardening really productive for me, is that  I can practice my multi-tasking skills, and thereby keep my mind sharp.  (...now where was I?)  Focus does not mean a one track mind.  Focus means being able to remember what you started out to do despite myriad fascinating distractions (Case in point, plant the black colocasia in the bog...but on the way to the shovel, you see that the scotch bonnet pepper seedlings need water!!!).  The fascinating distractions themselves have whole worlds of possibilities, too, that you must file appropriately for future reference, or follow at your own pleasure or peril.  After all, the prime directive (planting the colocasia) may not seem so prime if you're about to lose your raised-from-seed scotch bonnet peppers because you forgot to water.  Now, dear reader, the trick is to file that heretofore primary task for a better moment.  Planting bog plants can wait, in their boggy shady haven, for later, whereas you would supremely regret a missed opportunity for homemade hot sauce unattainable without going to Jamaica.

By the way, have you basted the herb roasted chicken in the oven lately?

Another, perhaps most significant impact stream of consciousness gardening has had on my garden is that I have gotten more accomplished in several areas of the garden that would otherwise have remained an undeveloped wilderness of invasives.  For me, the advice to tackle circumscribed areas for development in a new garden to have a greater sense of accomplishment fell on deaf ears.  At my age, time is of the essence.  I want results everywhere, immediately, just in case I become incapacitated sooner rather than later.  Those trees I want need to be planted now, and start growing now, if I am to see them bigger than saplings in my lifetime.  That paris yunnanensis must multiply immediately so that I can have a colony growing before I become mulch.  Therefore, I have managed to claim the entire formerly blackberry- and ivy-ridden property, except about 1000 sq. ft. adjacent to the creek (I call this the Wilderness for the Wild Things).  My dreams and visions and stream of consciousness gardening have permitted me in three seasons to cultivate a dry garden, a potager, a shady hosta garden, a stumpery, a stunning long border of perennials and fruit trees, an iris spring,  a scree garden for my eremurus, a campground peopled with native plants and fairy houses and this spring, my granddaughter's play garden, filled with whimsy and colorful tasty treats.  I visit and work in them all, nearly every day.

The ever expanding Long Bed, bridging the sunny Terrace I and the beginning of the woodland Terrace II.

My gardens will always be in progress.  I will always fret about the italicum pictum and the pigweed getting out of control.  I'll try to stay ahead of the slugs and the cabbage moths.  I'll try to remember where I left the clippers.  I will continue to ramble slowly through my magical gardens several times a day, caught up in the beauty, the birdsong and the industry of the bugs, knowing that I have    accomplished much,  and content that my "method" works for me.