I'm nurturing my garden this summer. I only have a short strip, about four feet by fifteen feet, without much sun, which limits the possibilities. I planted most of it with shade-tolerant ornamentals when we moved in: cyclamen, pansies, fuscia, azelea, gardenia, violets, iris, Lenten Rose. Since then I've done little more than water and fertilize, and the survivors have spread out and mixed with the volunteer grass species sown by the bird feeder.
My inner gardener has picked up a lot of references to monastery gardens this year, finally motivating me to convert the compost section by the backyard gate into a monastic herb garden. I enclosed the four foot space with curved brinks to make a low circular bed, moved my containers of cooking herbs onto brick liners, and planted a few more pots to round out the medicinal plants for teas.
My patio garden gives me more than an extension of living space or fresh ingredients for the table. Monastery walls protect a peaceful space from the wilderness outside, they also establish boundaries within which the religous community follows an ordered life directed towards God. My own small space offers me a resting place set apart from city life, a constant reminder of God's amazing creativity, and a still place in which to contemplate Him.
