In a rush we can still take care of the necessary, like putting on clothes. In a rush we do tend to notice the obvious things. That the home is on fire. That a flood is coming down the stairs. That our partner’s hair is now magenta, not green.
While fleeing to work the less obvious, but still troubling troubles are often missed. Or ignored, if you’re moving purposefully enough. You may miss, for instance, that there’s extensive termite damage in the walls. That there’s more moss than tiles covering the roof. That the back wall of the house, hidden by brambles, has more chipped paint than paint.
In Japan Mr. Shinji Suzuki, busy man that he was, would spend up to an hour every morning wandering about the benches. Poking around. It seemed to me to be a waste of time. What was he doing? Why wasn’t he busy doing something useful?
Now, after decades running my own garden, this puttering is probably what has saved more trees than anything else.
In intense putter-mode, I’ve spotted the never-seen-before pest. The alarming growth of fungus on my least favorite plant (you really have to be alert to spot it on those). The tipped over plant courtesy of the local raccoon, lying out of sight with exposed roots.
The bonsai gardener in putter mode at the average mall
Puttering in the bonsai garden is not a cure-all. You won’t find all the problems we set ourselves up to have by just having one bonsai. But it is at least two things: It is slow. And it offers a veneer of preemptive control in a garden, which, in contravention to a garden’s purpose, can resemble the crazy world.
Concepts in bonsai puttering may include:
- standing and staring
- looking for anything that moves that shouldn’t move
- contemplating off-color leaves
- sending samples to a lab
- a bit of light cleaning with a broom
- wondering why bonsai is so darn wonderful
Puttering in the bonsai garden may not be magic. But it may prevent the unmagical from getting worse.