Gardening

I seem to be in demand as a gardener, which is, I suppose, a good and honourable occupation for a retired clergyman.  The recession does not seem to have greatly affected - as yet - the desire of people to be surrounded by well-kept gardens, and their readiness to pay someone to do it.

It helps, I suppose, that I know fairly well what I am doing.  I'm not a garden designer, I don't lay paths or install decking or put up fences;  I don't even cut lawns and hedges if I can help it (though I do do some).  But I do know my plants, and I can distinguish a weed from the sort of thing people want to keep, and I am hard working and thorough.  So I'm getting work, and therefore getting paid . . . more to the point, I really enjoy what I'm doing, which is worth a lot.

I'm also quite a quick learner.  I don't pretend to know things I don't, and I always try to be honest and open about my lack of knowledge, and any deficiencies of technique I may have.  The most obvious of these, I think, is that I'm far too kind as a gardener.  I cut things back too timidly, and when garden plants stray into the 'weed' category by being too invasive and crowding others out, I'm loth to remove them.

A certain hardening of my heart is therefore needed, along with, perhaps, a bit more confidence in the ability of plants to recover from being cut back or weeded out.  In gardening, as in many other areas of life, there really are times when you have to be cruel to be kind.

Of course, I also have to listen to my client - views vary a lot!  For some, Welsh poppies (to take one example) are a pest of the first order, to be rooted out on sight;  for others, they are a delight, to be treasured.  The truth lies some way between the two, for me anyway:  The Welsh poppy is a lovely and delicate flower, and a floral symbol of the nation even if not one of the two 'official' ones . . . but there's no denying their ability to spread, and the annoying deepness of their tap roots.

"Treat this garden as if it's your own," I was told in one place.  I wouldn't dare!  Each of the gardens I visit and work in is different and special, and in some way expresses the character of its owner.  My job as a gardener begins always with listening and learning.  And it's worth (to close these thoughts) reflecting on the fact that mission and ministry also should begin with listening and learning;  so much damage is caused by those who rush in, sure they have all the answers, and creating for themselves at first glance a version of the truth that then remains impervious to all subsequent information.

I have encountered this myself - been a victim of it, I suppose.  I hope that on my part, as a minister, just as in my gardening work, I can remember to take the time and the trouble, and have the humility of spirit, to begin by listening and learning.