In my childhood home, along the length of fence on one side of our property grew a spiny hedge of blackberries the height of the fence. Every spring the menacing stems would fill first with green leaves and then with soft white blooms creating a flurry of activity amongst the bees. By summer, the sweet flowers would give way to dark plump fruits. As a child, I can remember picking the berries. Some dry summers yielded meager cups of berries, other rainy summers we gathered blackberries by the bucketful. In May, my sister and I gallivanted around the neighborhood with blackberry juice staining our fingers and faces. More than once the brambles snared me. Picking it’s precious fruit demanded a special kind of attention.

It wasn’t until much later that I realized this was my first close relationships with a plant. There was a reciprocity between me and the blackberry bush. For I was certainly known to carry the fruit with me on many a bike ride, no doubt dropping berries here and there as I ventured. In this way I distributed its seed. I was a busy bird, plucking berries and carrying them to new places where they could produce new plants. And for my hard work, the plant rewarded us with more berries. Reciprocity is the way of plants. And the way of Nature. Plants tempt with juicy fruits and in return their ability to replicate is enhanced. Their DNA travels far and wide.

Fifteen years ago I built my first garden on land that I owned. Though I grew up around gardens, this was my first experience planning and implementing a gardening design. It wasn't elaborate or exciting, but the beginning of a creative journey with Nature. Since that first amateur tilling and rowing of soil, I have befriended a myriad of plants. Now that I know better I no longer till any part of my gardens. I try my best to add, not disrupt or remove organics from the gardens. Even most so-called weeds end up back in my compost -- or more often than not they live happily mingling amongst my chosen plants.

I never considered myself a plant person, though I’ve always loved plants. But gardens have welcomed me for as long as I can remember. My relationship with plants didn’t blossom until I began to connect with the wisdom of their reciprocity — and in doing so, I began to see them as individuals — with desires, with intention, with intelligence. Under this paradigm, my life has changed. I have allowed the plants to pull me in. The years of toiling in the garden are behind me. Now I listen — to the plants and to my own heart. This is the source of guidance I receive. This is what I hope you will receive too.