The change

I spent a long time just standing in the garden Sunday morning, walking from one corner to the other, following the path from east to west and back again, wondering what was it that didn't feel right. The mild neglect was showing in the weeds and the obscured paths, but so too was the care in the marigold blooms and tall salvias. It was well planted, but bare in spots; tended in some places, overgrown in others. The garden seemed fractured, as if it was no longer either contained by or able to fill its own borders or the needs of WeMoon Spirit. As I stood there, I wondered if anyone had lately walked through the garden, and if so, what thoughts did their meander evoke? I got the distinct feeling that the garden had not been well-used in quite a while.

It was always the intention of the garden to invite women to connect with the Earth through sight, sound, touch, smell, and taste. The first plants were edible, fragrant herbs, and the paths were lovingly set out in curvy, organic lines; the idea was to bring peace of mind and joy of spirit to the women who worked, walked, and sat there.

So I began pulling up bottles and setting them out anew. I turned the compost pile, taking the chocolate-cake earth from the bottom and adding it to the beds while burying layers of green folliage and pine needles and sticks in its place. I pruned and pulled up and planted and moved around until something started to change.
My breath seemed to draw deeper; my arms and legs felt stretched and warm; my feet moved about easily, as if trodding by feel instead of sight. The path and experience that were so elusive when I first arrived began to emerge in my mind, my body, and the garden.

It had been a few moons since I'd spent any real time there, and I can't yet say when I'll again be able to dedicate the time it needs. But in recognizing and working with the Spirit of the Spirit Garden, I felt in myself something stir.