Gazanias in the Garden

Time Paradox

There is a continuous time paradox that we run into in our lives.

My generous friends offered to help me plant my newly acquired gazanias in a small garden patch. You see, several times in the pasts, they’ve tried helping me with different plants with the cheery confidence that gardeners have:

“You cannot go wrong with these – they will definitely grow.”

“You don’t have to do anything, they will grow by themselves.”

“See those – they just spread without doing anything!”

To these optimistic statements, I say, “Challenge accepted!” and go ahead to botch the poor plants with the bumbling blistering competence of a dancing octopus with a shovel. (generated by Gemini AI)

So, they took pity on me, and came by with their shovels, hats, and laughter. The patch itself was a tiny one, but as we tried to turn the earth over, it was apparent to them why nothing grows there, and how I was making such a killing with their plants and bulbs. The patch was full of pebbles. So, instead of doing a half-baked job, they all pitched in till we were all shoveling, digging and plodding the earth along. We removed pebbles by the dozen, and by the time the patch was turned over, and the new gazanias were in place, we felt like proper earth movers, ready for some tea and biscuits.

Things take the time they take

As I sipped the tea though, I realized how much work goes into gardens that beam at us everywhere in suburban areas. If this small patch of land took us around 2 hours to do, how do people manage large yards, and sprawling garden spaces?

These things made me think of time itself. We did not realize that it took us 2 hours to plant the gazanias.  That night when I went to bed, I had a wholesome ache in my arms, and dreams filled with fresh soil and flowers. 

All this pondering on gardens made me realize how impatient I am with myself for things to develop into fruition: that garden patch, that novel, that myth, those short stories, those children’s books. Things take the time they take. Sometimes more than one thinks is necessary, but if we keep at it, removing one pebble at a time, moving one ounce of earth at a time, that is all that should matter.

I used my best philosophical insight voice and said so to the husband who chuckled and said “Pesu!” (Talk!) .

Ursula K. LeGuin’s Influence: Embracing the Passage of Time

This impatience towards results: Could it have something to do with the pace of modern life? After all, we spend a monumental amount of time flipping through videos on fast-forward mode showing us how cakes are baked, iced and decorated in less than 15 seconds. In reality, the whole process could easily take 2-3 hours. Do we really feel a sense of participation in the cake-making process by scrolling and consuming it? I think not. 

It reminded me of the interview by Ursula Le Guin in which she talks about time. 

“I lived when simply waiting was a large part of ordinary life: when we waited, gathered around a crackling radio, to hear the infinitely far-away voice of the king of England… I live now when we fuss if our computer can’t bring us everything we want instantly. We deny time. 

We don’t want to do anything with it, we want to erase it, deny that it passes. What is time in cyberspace? And if you deny time you deny space. After all, it’s a continuum—which separates us. 

So we talk on a cell phone to people in Indiana while jogging on the beach without seeing the beach, and gather on social media into huge separation-denying disembodied groups while ignoring the people around us.

​I find this virtual existence weird, and as a way of life, absurd. This could be because I am eighty-four years old. It could also be because it is weird, an absurd way to live.”

~ Ursula K. LeGuin, Interview by Heather Davis

I remembered one remark made by a mother of an elementary school going child who had helped her child out with an art project, and put it up as a reel on her feed: “That reel took more than 4 hours!” she said wistfully. 

I grinned, swiped, and sent a quick ‘like’ before parting ways. That was that. 

I have often wanted to see a flower bloom, or a berry ripen – but the real magic happens so slowly, you barely realize it is magic at all. Maybe, that is the real magic – work with a good intention, do your best, let things take the time they take, and develop into what they need to. In the meantime, I head out everyday to gaze at my gazanias – so lovingly planted. Surely, they heard the chatter and the laughs as they took root. In time, I hope they laugh too.