Reluctant gardener

I got up early and decided today would be the day I started to be a gardener. There is no way to begin other than getting out there - Nawashi in hand - and for me - starting to carve out the old paths. Where are they? Hiding under all the summer growth. Plants that have given their best, their fruit and now lie in great swathes of seed pods, matting everything in their wild sowing of progeny. I have to get down on my hands and knees. Getting close to the ground is where I find the saw dust trodden way. I hack and clear a path - for it is necessary for my temperament to create edges - borders first that then the work of growing inside them can take place. Right now the whole place is one, seedy flowing mass of 100 square meters of carbonic mess. It’s overwhelming if I let my mind try to figure it out. One piece of path at a time - starting close in - always with the one step you do not want to take - to begin earnestly like I did after a night of solo sleeping. I live my life like this, procrastinating everything for an age - then realising that once I move, everything begins to loosen - open up. Other parts of my life move too - I expect good thoughts to accompany this basic action - this basic movement - cutting away the old so the new can emerge. And I should not be so tentative about cutting back the old growth for fear of upsetting the wild order. It will always be wild - it will always cross my borders - I am a temporary aberration - a human intrusion to a wild system - but I’m hoping and wondering if we can create a conversation of wilds that lets me also be a reluctant gardener.