I came across a fabulous short essay (https://www.permaculturenews.org/2016/03/25/what-happens-when-one-walks-in-the-garden/) on gardens and gardening this morning, while doing a little more research into permaculture design and layout. It brought to mind days decades ago, when I’d grab a cup of coffee and join the rising sun in greeting the morning garden in town, looking for changes in the small shrub & floral environment I had worked to create on our fraction of an acre bordered by all things city. It reminded me of the joy and faith involved in planting, and the peace of reviewing the state of the garden while contemplating the new day. It reminded me that vision makes purposeful play out of what, from the outside, may appear as endless physical labor. Perhaps most importantly for today, it reminded me that paths and seating are going to be necessary ingredients in the permaculture recipe being written here: paths for exploring, examining and tending; seating for contemplating and immersing.
Purposeful wandering about the farm has long been a pleasant use of limited time. This time of year I check the fence, water levels, state of the pasture, and roundness of expectant ewes, while picking up branches blown with March winds from the white pines. The expectant goats, not currently in that paddock, relish those branches as a welcome addition to hay and grain. Hay and chaff scooped daily from under the hay rack of the careless bucks becomes an addition to the hay rack for the rabbit colony overwintering within the barn. Those rabbits also do a remarkably good job of eliminating hay waste under the does’ hay manger. The rams, foraging in a large area along a stream, are beginning to eat the less desirable winter offerings while anticipating the imminent pasture growth, part of which will likely become next winter’s hay. Their late winter work will reduce the prickly brush in that area, while adding to soil fertility and hay yield. When time presents, I also walk the fence within the woods and over the stream. This area is used for summer and fall silvopasture; in late winter I can review the progress the goats have made in opening up brushy areas, and monitor the tracks of deer and coyote within this area bordered by farm and conservancy. In a month or less, I’ll be reveling in the spring wildflowers that are left, ungrazed by domestic animals, to propagate, for beauty’s sake.
There are times in my wandering when my attention is captured by the sound of a hawk, and I watch for minutes as they circle high above the pastures and woods, while the livestock guardian dogs in that area keep watch and give warning that they should NOT consider dropping lower. Or I locate a stand of jewelweed, and take a moment remembering childhood days where this plant was actively sought to relieve the itch resulting from other, less desirable plant contact made when wandering the woods. Sometimes I admire the movement of water in the small stream, or into it, from the low, boggy areas of the woods, or the smattering of color brought by the wildflowers in an area of pasture not recently grazed, or I stand facing west, attempting to capture some part of a glorious sunset more perfectly within my memories. These times suggest the value of seating options to enable a quiet resting moment among and within the teaming life; an opportunity to just observe and breathe.
Which brings me back to the necessity, to me, of consciously incorporating paths and seating within the permaculture garden being developed around the farm’s residence and outbuildings. I am reminded that gardens are smaller compositions within the musical of life, deserving of daily wandering and contemplative inspection, and often a source of renewed peace and inspiration. What a privilege to tend such as this!