See How The Flowers Grow
By Amy Stopher
Photo by Paula Green on Unsplash
Today the first-ever pin cushion flower burst into my garden. I spied it while I was mowing the lawn. The tree has been wearing its pointy white buds for a while, but the first flower still managed to surprise me. A flower! I promptly abandoned the mowing, snapped a pic and sent it off to two garden-loving friends. Ta da!
This tree has produced a flower almost entirely on its own. Free from the council, I popped it in the ground and staked it. My dodgy first attempt meant I had to re-stake 6 months later. But that, and water from the retic, is it. Even then it isn’t the most robust plant in my garden. That would be the pear-fruited mallee. Also free from the council it sat in its too-small pot for months waiting for another tree to be removed. It finally went in the ground in October. Right before one of Perth’s hottest ever summers. It should have died. And yet 18 months later it thrives. It seems to be happiest when the weather is over 35C.
Not everything in my garden is so robust. I’ve coaxed along numerous hydrangeas. Every one has died. I think the apricot tree I planted last winter is dead, killed by the February heat. But it might be alive, so I continue watering the stick in the ground in hope that green shoots will emerge come spring.
Every season I plant vegetables and flowers. It’s delightful! The perfect dahlia, the first sugar snap peas, a constant supply of herbs. But if I had to rely on my skills to survive - enough vegetables to eat, enough flowers to sell - I’d be very hungry. I’ve tried germinating seeds and succession planting. I don’t think it’s for me. As I scattered everlastings, poppies and coriander this autumn I decided this is more my style. If I can throw it and it grows, we’ll get on just fine.
I started gardening in my mid-20s. My parents are gardeners but I had no interest when I lived with them. It was at 25, as a ministry apprentice, my trainer suggested it. I was renting a house around the corner from church. The gardens were classic 80s rental - unplanned and overgrown. I was finding ministry tricky, with its lack of boundaries and slow-burn outcomes. “Why don’t you work in the garden?” he suggested one afternoon. And that was that. Looking back, I didn’t make any significant progress in that garden. Maybe it was a little tidier by the time I left. But that garden made me a gardener. Every home since I’ve had some kind of patch to potter, slowly growing my knowledge and skills.
I was won over by the garden’s rest. Not physical rest of course, but rest for my brain, and for my heart. The emotional output is low. The inputs gentle (aside from my barky dog). I never write lists for the garden. Instead I usually head outside without agenda, ready to do whatever presents itself to me in the moment. I get distracted and move onto the next job without finishing the first. The thing is, in the garden I stop thinking. Most of the time anyway. The whirring of planning and problem solving is turned down and I get to be in this moment, giving my attention to this one thing. This soil, or flower, or seed. Putting down the worries of the day for a little while.
It’s not without frustration. This week I have a mouse digging holes where I’ve planted ranunculus corms. Is it eating them? I guess I’ll find out in spring. All the pomegranates on my tree are bad this year, I think because I didn’t get rid of the ants and the scale last spring. I’m constantly cutting gall wasp out of the lemon tree. My roses have chilli thrips. My apricot tree has died, probably.
In spite of the set backs, it is deeply satisfying. To walk around the garden in the early morning and discover flower buds on the passionfruit vine, and sweet pea shoots emerging from the soil. To see the immediate result of the labour of pruning, or mowing, or weeding. To witness God’s creative work each day in a forming leaf or budding flower. And over time to build a garden, as trees grow and produce shade, and sand develops into something a step closer to soil than it was before. As birds and worms (and mice) move in. Even a blue banded bee came to visit one day.
There are 20 or more pin cushions ready to pop on that tree in my garden. I intend to delight in every single one, giving thanks to the Lord!
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Amy Stopher - Regular Contributor
Amy grew up by the beach, the third of four sisters, and first learned the gospel from her parents. She taught high school students Politics and English, before studying Theology at Trinity Theological College in Perth, WA. Now Amy serves on the ministry team at Providence City, and delights in seeing women grow in their confidence to teach God’s word. Amy loves gardening, cooking for people and eating with them, and early mornings at the beach. She lives with her dog, Billie. You can find more of her work here.