A world without hurry

Forced into isolation, the author flips back the pages of her gardening journal and unearths advice and anecdotes both.

Years ago, I had a fascinating experience in the garden. I was watching a cluster of praying mantis nymphs emerge out of an ootheca. One after another, they kept coming, and within a few minutes, there were hundreds of them around the sac. A few of them decided to explore the world and started crawling on each other to create an interlocked chain to reach the ground.

Leisure makes you wonder. It gives you the freedom to explore the world without hurry. I've been in isolation for the last week since I tested positive. Resting and recuperating, I listen to music, read books, watch a few shows, and thumb through my old garden notes and photos.

The present garden is not what it was when we began years back. Some plants have grown tall beyond recognition. Some plants were given to friends and family, and some have died. When we started, every aspect of the garden was fascinating. I would spend hours tending to plants. I took time to observe and write down every sundry detail. Here are a few snippets from my journal.

"I was startled to discover a beehive in the bird's nest box today. I thought the birds were not interested in it, so I decided to move it to another place. I opened the door and found an active hive with buzzing bees. I shut it quickly and ran inside, afraid of getting stung."

When we buy a nest box, we think that all the birds that visit the garden will adopt it. It turns out the ones that utilise it the most are bees, wasps, spiders, and squirrels. The experience made me go and learn more about bees rather than being fearful of them.

This also led me to read about birds and their nesting habits.

The ant and the lizard

An anecdote that made me laugh out loud was about an ant. “It was a warm sunny afternoon, and I paused to watch an ant wobbling on its path under the weight of a tiny piece of broken rice grain on its head. A small garden lizard was also watching the ant with its head tilted. I noticed the lizard and thought it was an observer like me. As the ant teetered, the lizard quickly flicked the grain with a whip of its tongue and vanished into a heap of dry leaves. Both the ant and I were startled. I burst out laughing. I didn’t know a lizard would eat an ant's food. Bewildered and confused as to what happened to the grain, the ant searched around for a few seconds and then hurried away.” This is still fresh in my mind and I cannot emphasise enough that a garden is not just about growing plants but also about the ecosystem that thrives along with it.

Then there are entries about my first vegetable patch, the date of sowing and harvesting them, and the manure I had added. Very often I noted how bountiful nature was. Everything in the garden has a purpose that the human eye always cannot fathom. Even a wilting leaf has its uses. After all, it is after the death of a colourful flower that seeds begin their journey.

February fragrance

Every February, I fall in love with the Pongamia in front of our house as it transforms into a colourful and fragrant tree. Pongamia Pinnata is also called the Avenue tree/ Honge Mara/Pungai Maram/Karanji. It is a resourceful tree to have in a garden.

Like clockwork, the Pongamia sheds its leaves in January and February. Fresh leaves subsequently appear along with fragrant flowers. You can collect the fallen flowers, add them to the pots, and use the dry leaves to layer your compost box. They are rich in micro and macronutrients and help rejuvenate the soil.

I buy the Pongamia oil and cake. The oil is an excellent insecticide. Mix it with equal parts of neem oil, add some surfactant (soap) and spray it on the plant foliage to keep the mealybugs and aphids away. The Karanji cake is rich in nitrogen, amino acids, and metabolites, all essential during the growth stage of plants. So, when you prepare your next vegetable patch, mix the cake with soil (a handful for a medium-size pot) and then transfer the seedlings.

As I look back, I realise that the garden and I have evolved together. It is in the shade of these plants that I find my creativity. As I write this, the Pongamia leaves are falling, and I cannot wait to leave my isolation and gather them for my compost box.

Motley Garden is your monthly potpourri of observations and lessons from gardening and nature.

The author is a botanical artist from Bengaluru. You can find her on Twitter and Instagram as @neelavanam