There is probably
nothing that has such a tranquilizing effect, and leads into such
content as gardening. By gardening, I do not mean that insane desire
to raise vegetables which some have; but the philosophical occupation
of contact with the earth, and companionship with gently growing
things and patient processes; that exercise which soothes the spirit,
and develops the deltoid muscles.
In half an hour I can hoe myself right away from this world, as we
commonly see it, into a large place, where there are no obstacles.
What an occupation it is for thought! The mind broods like a hen on
eggs. The trouble is, that you are not thinking about anything, but
are really vegetating like the plants around you. I begin to know
what the joy of the grape-vine is in running up the trellis, which is
similar to that of the squirrel in running up a tree. We all have
something in our nature that requires contact with the earth. In the
solitude of garden-labor, one gets into a sort of communion with the
vegetable life, which makes the old mythology possible. For
instance, I can believe that the dryads are plenty this summer: my
garden is like an ash-heap. Almost all the moisture it has had in
weeks has been the sweat of honest industry.
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