About dreams and gardens

"In his garden, every man can be an artist, without apology or explanation."

Louise Beebe Wilder, writer and landscape designer

Do our dreams come to us, or do we meet our dreams?

Have you ever wondered if you were dreaming with your eyes open, as if your reality had suddenly shifted, that the child within you had regained possession of your mind, and you found yourself looking at the world with the fresh, perpetually wondering eye that belongs to childhood, in its happy moments?

Sometimes our dreams come true. In the simplest, most natural way. They appear in front of us, just like that, looking at us with a smile. You've been waiting for me and here I am...right in front of you.

A garden in the shape of a message

That's what happened to me 3 months ago: the garden I'd dreamed of for so long came into my life. I'd wanted it for years. But I'd got used to the idea that "it was impossible". I live in the center of a city. There's no way I can recreate the garden of my childhood, a kind of lost paradise that we're not even sure really existed. No way of moving either, at least not for the time being. "Maybe you should get on a waiting list for an allotment?" my husband suggested. I hesitated... Finally, I did it. I signed up, convinced that it wouldn't work out anyway, or that it would take years. That I'd be stuck on a waiting list forgotten in a drawer.

After barely two months of waiting, I received a strange message: "I've got a garden and a cabin for you uptown. Do you want it?" Signed, destiny. I'm kidding, of course. The message wasn't even signed, and at first I thought some uncharitable soul was playing a joke on me! Then I realized it was TRUE. I went to see him. Love at first sight was immediate, and I hope reciprocal.

A garden to say yes to destiny

Once we had our backs to the wall, we had to decide. Taking on a garden is a bit like adopting an animal: you have to look after it. You have to visit it every day, take care of it. Could I find the time? My childhood garden had been planted and tended by my father, and my gardening experience was limited to a large balcony.

I decided that I couldn't just turn down the chance that was knocking at my door. I said YES, even though the whole thing scared me a little. In fact, very, very scared. Between encouragement and warnings, I spent a few weeks full of doubts.

So for the past three months, I've had a garden. And a tree house to boot. Right now, it's a bit of a mess. It's exciting, tiring, fun, creative... The outdoor kitchen doesn't exist yet, but I can already see it, and I can see myself in it, preparing dishes for you, with you. So many dreams are slowly taking shape.

While I'm waiting for spring, I'm educating myself. Where to put the vegetable garden? The herb garden? Will the apple trees bear apples this year? Should I create a rose avenue? The rosemary hedges and rosebushes that lined the paths of our Moroccan garden take shape before my eyes.

Did you know that when the King of Morocco drove through our village (a once-in-a-lifetime event that required a lot of preparation), I plucked all the rose bushes with my girlfriends and threw the petals at the limousine, shouting "Al Watan, al Malik!" (long live the country, long live the King) from the side of the road, as my parents looked on in dismay, but also in amusement?

At the start of 2024, I'm finding once again that life is unpredictable. When I started my very first blog eight years ago, to share my love of home cooking with you, I never imagined myself in the middle of a garden. I hadn't planned to create cooking experiences in nature either. Did I go looking for these dreams, or did they come to me? A bit of both, perhaps. They're here today, very real. They give me an intense feeling of joy.

New projects are taking shape more and more clearly. Thanks to this garden, but also because we must always dare to do what seems crazy, unfeasible, excessive. Even if you're scared to death. Especially if you're scared to death! Just one tiny step... Who knows what crazy adventure it will lead you to.

If you'd like to share my life in the garden, read about my work over the months, discover new cooking recipes validated by three generations of cooks, subscribe to my newsletter, follow me on Instagram, or come and see me. cooking in nature with me! I look forward to hearing from you.

For now, I'm off. I'll have to find out about the size of kiwis.

XX

PS: between these photos, it's been 40 years (more or less). The first one was taken in a friend's garden a few months ago, when I had just filled in my application for a garden. The others were taken in my childhood Moroccan garden. I see it as an invisible link, a thread woven into the fabric of time, which has never broken. Have you also felt this continuity in your life?