The Constant Gardeners

In my fathers house there is a tree peony. 8 ft tall, wood stems, that in the summer become a flush of green leaves and beautiful yellow flowers. I've always loved that plant. From the flowers fall an abundance of seeds, like small pebbles as they fall from their pods. People, including me, have tried to propagate them, with limited success. You see the tree peony seeds have very hard, thick shells. They require the freeze and the thaw. The slow movement of time. But sometimes those seeds do grow, in that garden into which they fell.

I've been lucky to have two plants grow from this. The first I nurtured from a tiny plant, in pots for several years. Until one year it came the time that it could no longer stay in a pot and needed to be planted out. It went into a border in my garden, which I'd spent the last 5 years creating and improving. After planting, the tree peony flourished, growing rapidly, and strongly. 8 months later I moved house. I am certain the season after the first yellow flowers would have emerged.

I still have another plant. It remains in a pot. Or in different pots, ever increasing in size. It too will reach a size at which it must be planted out. But i hesitate. What if this isn't my forever house. I doubt it is. Do I have to leave this one behind as well?

You see, this tree peony comes from dads garden. The original plant is still there. My dad is not. And these simple plants hold such memories for me. Silly really. But they do.

In every house I move to, I spend huge amounts of time on transforming the garden. Mainly from sterile precision, to messy, but alive. I focus on the soil, the conditions, and it often takes years. Fruit trees, ferns, wild grass and honey suckles. And finally when the conditions are right, and things are almost at the flourishing stage, I invariably move house. I rarely get the flowers, the fruits.

Maybe this is just my role in life. To move place to place. Tend to the soil. The constant gardener.

I think about it in my work. Much of what I do is in the weeds, untangling knotty problems, or tending to the conditions needed for things to thrive. But i'm rarely there when they do. No triumphant moments, no awards and celebrations, I've already moved on. But that is the nature of independence, the freedom I have.

But recently I've been wondering about the other constant gardeners. The ones who don't talk about systems change, but the ones who just quietly lay the conditions without which nothing changes. The network weavers, the relationship builders, the boring infrastructure maintainers, the quiet ego-less leaders. The ones who don't announce big change programmes or initiatives because they are already doing it. The ones who don't focus on the things that show, but the things that are necessary to enable the growth.

The constant gardeners often don't get the flowers. They don't get the promotions and awards, they don't get the keynote speeches or invites to taskforces. You won't hear them on the podcasts or in the interviews. But without them nothing of value happens really. I've seen this first hand, especially over the last few weeks.

But maybe we should be noticing them more. Recognising them more. Giving them their flowers that they don't crave, but definitely deserve.

Here's to the constant gardeners.