I’m musing on manure at the moment. Every day we collect three barrow loads and wheel it to various resting points in the field. Some of it is eaten by other animals and birds who pick through it to glean the nutrients left behind. Mostly, though, it sits in a pile and gently rots. I have long held a creative idea of using the manure to grow vegetables, herbs and flowers. I’ve imagined this garden project many times over the years. Not having a space or the right conditions has meant the garden remained imaginary.
Now due to a series of new circumstances, which involved moving the horses to premises where there just happened to be a dormant garden, the idea can come to the surface and start to take shape.
We have funding to create a community garden and the space which has lain under cover is opening up to new energy and ideas. Already some wonderful people who know more about growing vegetables than I do have come to see what our space has to offer. I must admit when I first saw it, my thought was: yes, maybe, but too much work, and clay soil is heavy work. Focus on what you already do. Don’t start something new. Forget it! You know how it goes when the voice of resistance and sensible restraint starts muttering.
For years, I have listened to that voice and allowed it to limit me. The dreams were pushed underground where they stayed under cover of darkness, waiting for the right conditions. And that was sometimes necessary. Sometimes we do need sensible limits, or we become depleted and exhausted.
Nevertheless, much like compost, creative dreams wake up when the right conditions arrive. My sleeping garden project has now become a daily reality. I’m on YouTube watching Charles Dowding, I’m grabbing cardboard from supermarket dumpsters, I’m reading about three sisters planting and propagating. My friend Matt, who knows about these things, has enthused me by coming over, testing the soil, visioning the garden into being with plans for tomato beds, pathways, a Mediterranean rockery. And compost. Everything circles back to compost.
Across the road from our project, which already has the name Grass Roots, is a wood yard, and the workers there have offered to bring over a load of woodchip to mix in with manure. Yesterday my friend and colleague Harriet was sweeping leaves into piles in her outdoor school. Before I left, I filled two feed sack loads and put them in the back of the Yeti. I listened to Gardener’s Question Time and the panel were passionate about leaf litter and its remarkable benefits for clay soil. I have the means to make wonderful compost.
I used to think I did not have time to garden and care for horses. In my mind, my horses were my garden. I grew them instead of plants. Now I see that growth does not happen as we anticipate. Shifts take place when we make room for them. In just two weeks, the community garden is taking shape and the energy I feel, the support from those who want to make this happen, inspires me to give this project space to flourish.
Composting ideas and creative projects is time consuming and requires energy. As a way of being, creative living, is a daily practice, and reflecting on that practice is something I aspire to do regularly, most often in my writing. Starting this project has helped me to see where my limits lie and where I might open once more to possibility. It is true that I do not have the time to bring all my creative ideas into being all at once. It is also true that those creative ideas and projects that are waiting for the right conditions will find their way to thrive.
Horsemanship for Health 