Historically, a garden symbolized a woman’s space, a female domain, and a woman’s virtue. That’s why a garden was always fenced in. An overgrown garden was a feared place, for it meant that the woman had gone wild. The garden became the woman and the woman became the garden.

In the garden, synesthesia is queen. She breeds sensation’s wonders out of her soil. Synesthesia is the phenomenon when you experience one sense in the form of another…for example, if you were to perceive the sounds of bells as floating triangles. Scientists will tell you this is a very rarely occurrence, but I am telling you that those scientists aren’t gardeners.

Plant a jalapeno next to a bell pepper…pick either when ripe…the jalapeno will be mild, almost sweet, but the bell pepper will have a surprising burn in the finish…they crossed in the roots and one quality went to another.

Once it is sunny and things are in bloom the garden is transformed into a sensory paradise. Go into the garden when the tomatoes are plumping and tell me that you cannot taste the color red. Tell me that the corn doesn’t have ears, nor the potatoes eyes. In a garden you can hear the green and taste the moistness of the earth without putting any in your mouth.

The plants that you tend to will also cross with you, becoming imbued with your emotions. Gardens make people tranquil but tranquil people rarely plant gardens. Put your anger into the dirt and make the worms writhe with it. Sob salty tears and dissolve the snails with your lament. Angst and frustration make watermelons juicy and sweet. Just a hint of resentment gives the purple chive flowers bite. One drop of blood will protect against intruders. The big scary spiders and bees with stingers are your allies, your sister’s in arms.  A garden is no paradise…this isn’t the garden…this is your garden. You create it, you tend it, you devour it. You will ingest your own suffering and it will be luscious. Your poison will nourish you, if you first put your poison into the earth.