Indeed there is something spiritual about working with the land, of running your fingers through dark, fertile soil, of working in sync with the cycles of the season.

I place the root ball in the carefully dug furrow and close the earth over it, firming it down and move on to the next until there’s a row of young tomato plants, ready to extend their roots into the earth, to grow. And when it’s done I sit down and have a drink. There’s dirt beneath my nails and I think once more, I could do this forever.

Yellows, purples and deep blues flit by, easily missed by most, or seen and unseen, scenery and nothing more. The beauty of the wildflowers, their existence forgotten if noticed at all and all before they’ve disappeared from view. All of this glimpsed as I stare out the window, seeking something other than the endless roads stretching ahead lined with traffic spewing fumes, the endless grey of industry and business.

Finding ourselves and rediscovering our closeness to nature is just the beginning of resistance. Gardening teaches us self reliance, it teaches us to work for ourselves and the joy that comes with eating produce grown with love and care. It highlights the symbiotic relationship we have with the land.