Friday, March 23, 2007

Gardening and the City




It seems I'm reading and hearing a lot these days about wanting to move out of the city and into the country, away from the people and into the wilderness, off the grid and away from the madding crowds.

I understand the urge, at least, I think I do. Everyone needs to be in the desert once in awhile. Needs to hear nothing but wind, see nothing but sand, feel nothing but the hot air that comes not off the baking concrete, but off the baking rock.

But I don't understand wanting to live there permanantly, not really, even if your particular desert is green as Oregon, or pretty as Colorado.

The past month has been a month of gardening for me. Every time I come inside after watering, weeding, digging and planting, I feel refreshed. I feel like the world is bigger and brighter and better than I thought it was before I went out and got my hands dirty. And it strikes me that this is why I like the city: I like the city because it is a place of gardens. Yes, there's too much concrete and smog, too much trash and too much suffering, too much crowding and too much crime. But it's also a setting for thousands of sunken green jewels, thousands of gardens.

From the carefully planted lawns surrounded by sculptured rocks, to the vast parks full of trees and ponds, to the college arboretums to the professional, botanical gardens, to the nurserys full of saplings and fountains, to the islands of carefully-tended roses in front of the gas stations, everywhere I go in the city I seem to run into slices of nature, carefully tended and grown into a beauty and orderliness that's never matched in the country.

Okay, that's not true. I know it. There are gorgeous gardens in the country, and there are farms that have an orderliness and beauty all their own, and the truth is that the country is almost as much a product of man's cultivation as the city is. But my point is that the city is not a complete abomination. If you open your eyes, what you see, over and over again, is man's attempt to live up to his Edenic duties. I like it here.


Some of my favorite bloggers disagree with me. And, truthfully? I like reading how God's called them to the country, and hearing about their adventures there. But me? Give me a garden in a city. At least for now, that makes me very happy.

peace of Christ to you,
Jessica

1 comment:

Amber said...

Actually, I don't disagree with you at all. I enjoy very much the beauty of the city/suburbs - every time I'm out running or walking I love watching the neighbors trees and plants come into bloom. It is a profusion of color and texture I know I will never be able to duplicate on our property. I will miss a lot of things about where I live when we move - the gardens, walking to the store, walking to the park, watching the changes of the seasons in the showy display of a cultivated world.

Our move to the country is more a search for affordability and a move towards family than an escape from the city. That being said, I'm looking forward to being able to have a large garden, lots of fruit trees, and perhaps some chickens and goats. I'm also very much looking forward to the opportunity of building our own house - again something we're doing out of economic necessity but still something I think will be great for our family.

And while we're moving into the country, it is hardly the wilderness - it may be quieter than the city (and I'm looking forward to not hearing sirens race past our house several times a day!) there will be man-made noises all around us - chainsaws, ATVs, mowers, etc. We will have (grid-tie in) electricity, and we're only 15 minutes outside of town. There are lots of people around, and lots of signs of people around - and I'm glad. I have no desire to move to the far reaches of Montana or Alaska, where you truely are alone out in the wilderness, seeing nothing but the natural evirons and hearing nothing but what God has placed on earth. Backpacking there occasionally is great, but it is too lonely and too isolated for me to consider living there full time.