Gulf Coast Greenie

Consolation for Frustration, Part II: Self-blame

Do you ever look like this after frustrations in the garden?

As Plantwoman pointed out in her comment to my last post, self-blame can also result when things aren't perfect or have unexpected outcomes in the garden. She asked if Alain de Botton has something to say about that; he does. The very next chapter of The Consolations of Philosophy is titled "Consolation for Inadequacy" (feelings of inadequacy are another response to frustration, so I've maintained the last title for this post.) In this chapter, de Botton looks at Montaigne, who was, quite appropriately, both a philosopher and a "gentleman farmer."

Montaigne, of 16th Century France, did not share the belief of many ancient philosophers that intellectual life was superior to any other. He wrote a vehement response to Cicero's proclamation that "'[Scholarship] is the means of making known to us [ . . .] the infinity of matter, the immense grandeur of Nature, the heavens, the lands and the seas. It has taught us piety, moderation, greatness of heart. . . ."

Montaigne's reply: "'Man is a wretched creature . . . just listen to him bragging. Is this fellow describing the properties of an almighty and everlasting God! In practice, thousands of little women in their villages have lived more gentle, more equable and more constant lives than [Cicero].'" As both scholar and farmer, Montaigne recognized human limitations and appreciated aspects of life that other scholars did not.

Unlike intellectuals who lock themselves away in libraries or the Ivory Tower, where they can feel smart in their isolation, anyone who works in nature as gardeners do is forced to confront his or her personal limitations on a regular basis. In that way, a gardener's sense of inadequacy is perfectly adequate and reasonable. We shouldn't let ourselves fret over not being god-like.

Montaigne had inscribed on the ceiling of his vast library many ancient proverbs that seem to me particularly suited to gardeners:
"The happiest life is to be without thought" - Sophocles (How perfect to lose oneself in work in the garden, if but for a while.)
"Have you seen a man who thinks he is wise? You have more to hope from a madman than from him." - Proverbs (The best gardeners are often the ones most ready to admit they must go to other sources to find answers, and to learn from other gardeners.)
"Everything is too complicated for man to understand." - Ecclesiastes (Self-explanitory.)

He said of himself: 'I want death to find me planting my cabbages, neither worrying about it or the unfinished gardening' (Essays I.20)."

Do you have favorite gardening proverbs?

I would add to the list:
"Even monkeys fall from trees." - Japanese proverb
And:
Even squirrels take a break sometimes - Me

Consolation for Frustration, Part I:

Lately, Yves1019, Bearkat110, and Maggierose have described very frustrating situations with their beautiful gardens. Of course, the rest of us have our bad days, too. So when I came upon a review of a new book by one of my favorite writers, Alain de Botton, I thought of sharing with you something from his Consolations of Philosophy, a book that never fails to cheer me. (This doesn't directly relate to anything I've read in other blogs but I hope it can help you laugh at frustrations you may have in your garden or out.)

de Botton writes in his chapter "Consolation for Frustration," that it "is tempting, when we are hurt, to believe that the thing which hurt us intended to do so." I ask you to contemplate that for a moment. As ridiculous as it sounds, have you ever assigned to elements of your garden free will or self control that they do not have?

A squirrel in our yard does actually try to hit us with pine cones, and I confess to sometimes responding as if it were an equal, a human neighbor, taking aim at me. I talk to it, tell it I don't deserve such treatment, etc. I have never gone as far as some, however.

One time, at a talk that was supposed to be on permaculture, I found myself stuck listening to a tangent that led to intricate details of the presenter's squirrel death box invention he uses "to let them go to sleep and not wake up." The effort involved in what he described hardly sounded worth the protection of a few tomatoes.

Such unbalanced responses have been witnessed since ancient times. de Botton tells us that the Roman Stoic Seneca observed that kind of behavior and its negative effects -- responses to frustration can be even more damaging to us than the original problems. For teaching purposes, Seneca collected stories of people feeling persecuted by inanimate objects. One these comes from Herodotus's Histories:

Cyrus, founder of the Persian Empire, had a prized white horse he always rode in battle. While marching toward Babylon to conquer the Assyrians, his army came to the river Gyndes, which was raging with snowmelt from the Matienian mountains. His generals advised him to wait until the conditions improved, but Cyrus was impatient and ordered them to proceed. "Yet as the boats were being readied, Cyrus's horse slipped away unnoticed and attempted to swim across the river. The current seized the beast, toppled it and swept it downstream to its death."

Cyrus became incensed that the river had stolen his treasured mount. He raged on the bank and "vowed to punish the river by making it so weak that a woman would in future be able to cross it without so much as wetting her knees." He then made his men stop their march toward Babylon and spend the summer digging trenches to split the river into 360 weak channels. "His anger assuaged, the King of Persia instructed his exhausted army to resume the march to Babylon."

What are the Gyndes in your garden?

Weeding around liriope can make me feel like Sisyphus.

TheDailyBeast.com has published a funny clip that ties in with my post. "What the Flock" from FOX News.

Remarkable Plants of Texas by Matt Turner

In Remarkable Plants of Texas, Matt Turner brings together three very different origin stories of the Indian blanket.

Without a doubt one of the highlights of our trip to San Antonio and the Festival of Flowers was meeting author Matt Turner, whose Remarkable Plants of Texas came out in January from the University of Texas Press. Turner, who has a PhD in comparative literature (English and Spanish), is the son of Dr B. L. Turner, Prof. Emeritus of Botany, UT Austin.

Unlike many botanical books of comparable size, Remarkable Plants of Texas is neither picture book nor reference. Instead, the author brings to his work his interest in narrative to animate the cultural history of a wide selection of native Texas plants. He incorporates biography, archaeology, folklore, and contemporary science to present his multi-dimensional portraits. Among the many plants included are the Texas mountain laurel, ocotillo, horsemint, jimsonweed (Datura), and about 60 others. The book has answered many questions for me that I wasn't even sure how to ask before.

One passage that particularly moves me is that in which Turner brings together three Indian-blanket legends from disparate sources. In one, an "Indian girl becomes lost in the woods and, with night coming on, asks the Great Spirit to cover her with the beautiful orange and red good luck blanket that her mother had woven for her warrior father." In the morning, she discovers she is clothed in a mantle of Indian-blanket flowers. Another he recounts is far less romantic. It describes the red of the Indian blanket as the blood stains of the native peoples. Turner brings together elements from histories of many different peoples of Texas without favoring any group in particular. His writing well reflects the complex makeup of our state while at the same time maintaining his own style of narrative continuity.

There are many more compelling stories in Remarkable Plants of Texas, from all regions of Texas. Turner describes some of the others in this worthwhile Austin-PBS interview.


After I met him at the festival, the author graciously helped me identify two plants from my previous blog posts [1, 2]. The type of berry pictured below appears in his book as the fruit of the silverleaf nightshade:

He explains that despite its toxic properties, it was in the past used to curdle milk to create asadero cheese.

He also helped me with this yellow beauty:

His father, B. L. Turner, wrote his Master's thesis on this group. It is Neptunia lutea, called “yellow puff.”

Even if he hadn't been friendly and helpful, I would highly recommend Remarkable Plants of Texas to gardeners and those interested in history and Texana. I hope this publication is the first of many by this gifted author.

Remarkable Plants of Texas
by Matt Warnock Turner
University of Texas Press, 2009