Re-landscaping Phase 1: Demolition
deconstruction in life and in the garden
I’ve been going through a phase of intense deconstruction; both in my yard and in the landscape of my personal life. When my husband and I bought our historic farmhouse in December we could immediately tell that the half acre yard needed some attention. The lawn (if you can call it that) was weedy and mostly dirt with patches of grass peppered here and there. Several dead trees lined the property while the living trees appeared as though they’d never been pruned. Wild rose grew rampant in the derelict garden beds, wild plum shoots creeped along unkempt beds bordering the house, and invasive vines pulled at the wooden fence. A sprinkler system was nowhere to be found, a rotting shed stood in the middle of the yard, and a 100 year old cottonwood stump stood out like an eye-sore near the back patio. We knew we had our work cut out for us, but that’s what attracted us to this lot. A 117 year old victorian farmhouse built in the early Utah Mormon era positioned on a half acre in the city was an opportunity we couldn’t pass up.
We moved in on the Winter Solstice and set pencil to paper, soon after, with plans for the yard. We tracked the sun and the slope of the land. We checked the health of the trees and noted what plants would stay and which needed to be replaced. We considered how we wanted to use different areas of the yard for gatherings, vegetable gardening, lounging in the grass and flower peeping. We looked out of all the windows at different hours of the day and considered what we want to see there in the future throughout the seasons with the shifting light and weather. Ultimately we drafted up a sketch - plans from a top-down view of the final layout. It’s this big picture, the vision for what we want to experience in this space, that helped us outline each phase of our re-landscaping project.
I’m learning that healing old wounds in relationships is not all that different from re-landscaping. There’s a structure or an ecosystem, if you will, that needs to be established in order for things to flourish. Resources like sun, healthy soil and water (or vulnerability, understanding and acceptance) need to be present. In both regards, one must be willing to work. Whether it’s dead trees, lifeless soil, or an old rotten shed in the way, there’s often obstacles to navigate in order for the land to be rejuvenated and begin to flourish. In the landscape of my personal life, these obstacles are old traumas and stories cycling through my mind and the minds of those around me. In the instances where space needs to be made in order for new life to unfurl, we must weed, prune out, and possibly even tear down or deconstruct barriers. Bottom line is that it’s hard manual labor - literally and figuratively. This is the place I find myself in - a phase of deconstruction.
In our yard, we started by felling the dead trees. With a chainsaw we cut a wedge into the base of the trunk in the direction we wanted the tree to fall. My husband climbed high into the tree on a ladder and tied a rope around the trunk. With one person pulling the taught rope in the direction of the fall-line, the other made an adjacent cut on the trunk so gravity pulled the tree down. We took down seven full sized trees in a single day of rip-roaring fun. The following two whole weekends (plus evening hours after work) were spent cutting up the branches and trunks into firewood stockpiles. We dragged the trunks and large branches into piles along our fence line where we’ll bury them in a berm of soil. Our intent is to create a hugelkultur style garden bed along the border of our property. The logs will decompose overtime and feed the soil around the roots of the trees and shrubs that we’ll plant. We burned the tiny branches of the dead trees and layered the wood ash over the logs in an effort to use every bit. This project was physically demanding and left our muscles sore for days afterward. One demo project done, more to go.
During this time I began to attend relationship coaching sessions. There are relationships close to me that have been neglected, souring with judgment, resentment and disconnect for years. These relationships, I’m sorry to say, have consisted of a series of painful wounding and re-wounding interactions. For a long time it’s been swept under the rug with the subconscious intention to never address. It’s simply easier to victimize ourselves, judge, blame, and look away than it is to challenge our set ways of thinking and interacting. Under the pressures of current events, spiritual awakenings, and diverging life choices those relationships hit a breaking point. So I decided to try coaching with a mixed-faith relationship coach in an effort to take steps to heal. For this experience I’ve had to look around the landscape again and determine what I want, what needs to be excavated, what can stay, and what work I’m willing to do. I’ve only just started tearing down ideas and thought patterns in order to make room for more productive ways of relating. I think felling trees is easier.
The next big project in our yard was demolishing the rotting garden shed. We rented two fifteen yard dumpsters and got to work with pry bars, sledge hammers, and protective gear. With the help of family and friends the shed was down within one weekend. It was a painstakingly tedious job deconstructing that old shed nail by nail, board by board. Whoever built it did one hell of a job hammering nails every four inches. At one point we needed a truck and winch to pull the frame and roof down. We also rented a jackhammer from Home Depot and broke up three tons of concrete. Under one of the concrete pads we discovered a buried home freezer (from the 1960’s) full of trash. Finding this ugly creature buried so deep below the surface was not an enjoyable discovery to unearth. I dug around the sides of the freezer, three feet down, in compacted dirt to help dislodge the beast. That weekend we slept like the dead and woke up tired as hell. Every bone in our body ached and every muscle whined at the slightest use. I have never experienced such bone-deep exhaustion in my life.
We were three solid days into shed deconstruction when a friend called and asked if he could help us rip out the freezer and haul away the cement. After such a physically and emotionally taxing weekend, I had stepped back to rest and was on the tender verge of emotional breakdown when he called. Community showed up right when I needed it most. With that little boost we were able to complete the shed demolition and set our sight onward.
My next task in the yard was to figure out what to do with the big old cottonwood stump and the living shoots that erected out of the ground from the old roots. It was such an eyesore! Standing 5 feet tall and 3.5 feet in diameter, it was a challenge figuring out what to do with the stump. Ripping it out with an excavator was too costly for our budget. We considered cutting it down to repurpose it into a table top or sitting area amongst the bushes that will eventually live there. We also considered hiring a local woodcarver to shape it into a sculpture. One sunny day I sat looking at the stump imagining what it could become when I saw a bee fly into a little hole. A closer look revealed a native beehive and happy colony of carpenter bees living the stump. They don’t create honey, but are excellent pollinators in the garden. My joy at the discovery of such special creatures helped transform my perspective of this old tree and consider new possibilities. As long as the bees inhabit it, we’ll keep the stump and simply plant around it, hopefully transforming this structure into a beautiful habitat for our garden ecosystem. Sometimes a closer look reveals hidden treasures and new possibilities.
After this discovery I worked to dislodge the sucker shoots erecting from the roots so that planting can occur. It took me the better part of the afternoon, a variety of tools, and some serious muscle to dig out and cut each sucker root from the dead tree’s base. But finally, I cleared it out and now the space is free to beautify.
Since my group coaching has begun I’ve been spending a lot of inner energy processing and working to heal these old wounds. I’ve only just begun. Resolution might not be near, or it may never happen. It might be possible to heal and grow together, but only if both of us are willing to do this tough work. At this point, it’s unclear if they want it as much as I do. So for now, I’m learning that it’s time to adjust my expectations, to meet some folks where they’re at. I’m working to recognize and deconstruct and question the reel of stories that plays on loop in my mind. I’m questioning what I make their actions mean about them, or myself. I’m trying to learn how to curiously observe rather than judge and practicing setting firm boundaries so I can experience radical acceptance. I’ve deconstructed my belief system before and rebuilt my identity and perception of the world. I know what sort of work is involved in order for healing and rejuvenation to take place. It is exceedingly complicated and requires help, grace, and frequent intervals of rest. I think my vision of a deeply connected community and familial relationships is possible - it’s probably just going to look different than I had expected. In order for things to regenerate and heal, more clearing out needs to happen.
Both in life and in the garden I’ve been doing some serious work. Some days I don’t know how I’ll get through, other times I feel real progress happening. New muscles are being worked. New boundaries are being established and barriers are slowly being demolished. It is haarrdd and exhausting. Overall, I am hopeful. Phase 2 of our re-landscaping project is Irrigation. It’s time to bring water to this land and regenerate life into the soil. For those that might be interested, the word Regenerate means: To regrow. To heal from long-sustained extractive practices, replenishing and providing nourishment so that all benefit. To create vitally intimate, reciprocal relationships with ourselves, our community, and mother earth.
