April 10: peas in the ground. And, because the outdoor faucet is not turned on, I added on top this snow (blessed snow) to moisten them! Now, will they be up, blooming and producing peas by the time Hunter and Lynn arrive mid-June????
As I was putting in the peas, I remembered an experience of planting from a while ago. My then husband, Daniel, was an award-winning gardener. He knew how and where to plant, and the gardens were (are still) magical. At the time of this incident, we had moved to a new house and in the back it looked at a school. Clearly, there needed to be a garden there – to interrupt the view. He challenged me to dig the rock hard soil several feet deep in order to put in a new mix of dirt so that anything would actually grow, and then afterwards, he watched as I plopped in the first small plants. When he came out to see what I had done, he laughed. In a few moments, he had gently re-arranged the plants and they, yes, looked 200% better. The key: always group them in odd numbers, he told me.
Today, this same idea appeared in the Bob Dylan book. He discovers that, if the rhythm of his music was switched from anything based on an even number(2) to anything based on an odd number(3, 5 7), it moved from being forgettable to mythic. It became dynamic. And that’s what we all yearn for on some kind of mystical level.
My dear snow peas – now they are all tucked in one long little ditch. No number of seeds were counted. Doubtless, they will be mythic in their own right. But in the places where numbers are felt: music and art (including gardens), how profound that arrangements always reflect numbers, and that these numbers are felt so deeply in our psyche.