Joesays

    The growing of the vegetables and flowers in my garden never stop growing in the cycle of the sun, the wind, the rain and the day-night movement. As much as I plan to organize the seeds, I am not in control of the vegetables and flowers because I support them by filling the containers with soil, and planting the seeds, and watering the soil within the confines of my backyard garden space.     Because my backyard garden is not an open space that receives the maximum amount of sunlight during the day, the growing season varies from spot to spot in the backyard. One spot receives an abundance of sun in the morning and the afternoon, and one spot receives sun in the morning, and another spot received sun in the afternoon, while another spot barely receives any sun at all.     The sunlight is the giver of life, so that it is natural that the amount of sunlight equals the potential ability of each seed to grow in an optimal manner. Taking into account the potential of each seed within th

    I have pulled the radishes, with their big sprawling leaves and their tiny radish bulbs. The tiny size of the radish bulbs was a disappointment, which made me look for answers. The first answer was the sunlight, but I could not control the amount of direct sunlight. The second answer was the soil was too loose. I based this on the radishes I grew in front of the Oakland Carnegie library, in which the soil had been very hard and packed. The third answer was that the soil composition was off balance, as I had only used an organic potting soil. In response to the soil quality, I started adding coffee grounds to the soil as a way to add nitrogen.     Because the radishes had grown full bright green leaves, I began to think that my garden space was not conducive to growing root vegetables. In addition to the radishes, I had planted Fennel seeds, which had failed to pop out of the soil. However, the spinach and the chard and the summer squash were doing very well. The squash, in particul

          I designed the garden to enrich my experiences. In the planning, seeding and maintenance of the garden, I would create my backyard dream. My dream at first did not include the squirrel or the robin that would also come and live their experiences in the garden.     The house catty corner behind my garden is a roofless house. Without a roof, plants and grasses are growing within the walls of the house. Somewhere within the courtyard of this roofless house lives a squirrel. The squirrel climbs uses the vines that have latched onto the back wall of the roofless house to climb down to visit my garden, the next door neighbor’s backyard tree garden, and then hop along the boundary fence to venture out into the alley.     Late in April, I spied the squirrel perched on the fence halfway between the house and the wall. The squirrel noticed me right away, and his eyes locked on me. The tail curved up, and the squirrel went rigid. Waiting. In his waiting, I studied the squirrel. The squi

    My garden had a magical effect on me, as it was not just a physical activity planting and weeding and tending. I saw the avocado leaves wilt and sag when they were dry and needed water. I saw how they loved the sun and stood resplendent in the sun. In addition, I had an emotional connection to the garden. In the growth of my dear avocado, I saw intent in action. My avocado seed had a clear intent to grow into the avocado tree, and I was a witness to its clear daily intention. In witnessing the avocado, as well as the roses, and the radishes and the other marvelous vegetables, I was becoming one with them all. I went from my garden, into the garden, where we were sharing this space and time together.     The dear garden was part of my transcendence to become one with nature. In this transcendent transformation, the spiritual words of Rumi flowed to me in toroidal waves, and thus encircling me and rooting me.     The poet Rumi is the name Westerners appellate to the famous poet. His