I
grew up on a small farm and that could explain my lifelong
inclinations to gardening. But the affinity goes deeper than that:
on a couple of occasions it was casually commented that I showed a
"peasant’s life philosophy". I took it as a flattering
although, very likely, it was done in a derogatory sense. To turn
the soil, to plant seeds and watch plants growth, to harvest the
fruits of your labor - is there a more direct way to belong
somewhere?
And
now, in my advanced age, I realize yet one more advantage of
gardening. There is no room for rational doubt that my physical and
mental capabilities are reduced - professionally I am outdated and
outplayed. I am not anymore there - where everything was so familiar
I get along fine. The nightmare scenario, which cannot be completely
ruled out, is that I don’t recog- nize the limits of bullishness of
my post-professional activities. Here comes the gardening: all my
gardening failures stay in-between the soil and me. Good, we are old
friends.