Sometimes it feels that all we do is fight the force. We make plans - of who we may like to marry, or what job we want or even what we’d like to grow in the garden - and despite our best intent, and exerting our own forces to control the outcomes, a greater force wins out. Some people call this ‘fate’, or ‘inevitably’, but whatever it’s called it raises a pretty sensible question: why fight something that can’t be controlled? Why not just accept that you've married a babe with blonde hair and not brown, and begin to flow with the force.
It’s a question we always find ourselves pondering when in the autumn garden. We’ve just spent the last months in a war with our tomatoes and basil and zucchinis, and all the other glory vegetables, and it’s a mess. Purveying the dead limbs and rotting fruit, and now the scavengers coming in to salvage what’s left, we wonder at what we have created. Sure there’s some battles we’ve won, and some we have lost, but meanwhile: the plant that mysteriously popped up in the compost heap has been the season’s champion.