March in the Brooks Estate Garden


3 minutes reading

“Sanctuary” by Ada Limon from The Hurting Kind:

Suppose it’s easy to slip
into another’s green skin,
bury yourself in leaves

and wait for a breaking,
a breaking open, a breaking
out. I have, before, been

tricked into believing
I could be both an I
and the world. The great eye

of the world is both gaze
and gloss. To be swallowed
by being seen. A dream.

to be made whole
by being not a witness
but witnessed.

As gentle snowdrops and delicate crocus slowly unfurl in the garden, the promise of spring draws near. This time of year, as the soil begins to reawaken, I find myself training my eyes at a scale I don’t often consider. We often forget to slow down and enjoy the change of perspective that is afforded at the soil layer. In a revere of weeding, my knees in the soil and my eyes trained downward on details; I have a glimpse of the dramas of soil life.

In the soil, a vast and fascinating food web is underway, a symphony of life forms that are interconnected, and still greatly unknown. Small yellow spiders dart among the damp compost, and I find myself admiring their plump bodies adorned with eight tiny legs. Nearby earthworms are plucked from the soil by white-crowned sparrows, who jostle after the upturned tufts of soil I leave in the wake of weeding. With hands, nose, and eyes all trained to the soil, the garden is a daily reminder to shift my sense of scale. In doing so, I can marvel at the small wonders that unfold, hidden from my eyes otherwise.

My perspective is shifting daily as I find myself one minute admiring the emerging pink flowering currant at the soil level, and the next peering up at the red-tailed hawk that careens above me, considering the entire landscape in its view. Each perspective broadens my worldview, from that of the spiders-eye view to that of the hawk. When I take the time to enter into each worldview, I realize that the lens through which I see the world is not one way. We do not live in this world in isolation. The eyes of the hawks and spiders see me as much as I see them. Acknowledging their worldviews is a form of reciprocity, a way to connect to the land. Anchored to the here and now, I am made aware of how I am only part of this larger web of life.

Being in the present, staying with the beauty I am finding in the moment feels incredibly difficult as winter continues to bring snow and frost to the garden. However, when I look through the lenses of another vantage point, with those that share this garden space with me, I find myself drawn into the present moment, reminded that I am only a piece of this ecosystem. This thought brings a sense of calm to my tasks, whether it is weeding with the sparrows in the garden, or thinning pea shoots in the greenhouse under the vigilant eye of the spider who hangs above the door. When I slip into this worldview, I am reminded that I am part of a bigger picture, an entire living and breathing ecosystem; I am whole.

-With Love from the Garden


Farm to Table

This month, our tasting room menu features the following items from the Brooks Estate Garden: garlic, cilantro, onions, greens, kale, carrots, herbs, beets, and jalepenos.