The Naked Gardener

by L B Gschwandtner

  At that point, I let go of his arm. I stepped over to the hose, swiveled the nozzle and rinsed myself off , starting with my hair and letting the water cascade over my body. The sun had moved west, its most intense heat over for the day. A slight breeze rustled the leaves and moved through the garden.

  “There’s so much you just don’t know,” I answered him finally. I had no idea where this was going to go, but I wanted to lay it all out now, to root out everything that was on my mind.

  “Obviously.” He said it dryly, with no trace of emotion. “Like this.” He pointed to my naked body and waved his hand over to the rock.

  I sighed. I felt tired, overwhelmed by the whole thing. And then he did something I never would have expected. He reached up and grabbed the V neck of his shirt and pulled at it and tossed the shirt toward the garden fence. It missed but he let it lie there. He grabbed the shovel and walked with determination over to the rock.

  “You want it out of here?” he asked, his voice louder and more strident than the situation demanded. “Let’s get it the hell out then.”

  With a powerful thrust he sank the shovel at an angle a few inches beyond the rock and pushed it deep into the soil. I didn’t hear the shovel hit rock. He pulled it out and moved a little to the right and repeated this until he had gone halfway around the stone and reached where I had dropped the pick axe. He grabbed it and raised it above his head, with the flat prying side faced forward. His arm muscles flexed. He sized up the position of the pick axe and the rock. Down he came with it in a mighty arc until the axe head landed with a thump half buried under the earth. He left it standing there and brought the shovel around and slid it under the pick axe and using it as a lever against the axe head, he pulled back. I heard the axe tip scrape against rock, saw the rock move slightly upward. Maze grunted as he pushed the shovel farther under the axe head and repeated pulling it back towards himself. His back muscles swelled as he applied pressure. The rock groaned, moved again, and now I came over and grabbed the handle of the pick axe and pulled it back towards Maze. Together we pulled and pulled, pushed both tools farther under the rock, and pulled some more.

  Finally, after much straining and pulling and repositioning of our tools, we had managed to tip the rock about a third of the way out of the earth.

  “We need something to put it on to wheel it out of here,” said Maze.

  I didn’t say anything. Maze was breathing hard. After a few minutes he wiped sweat from his forehead and stared at the rock.

  “Why aren’t you dressed?” he asked.

  “It’s a long story.”

  “I have time. We need a break from this thing anyway.”

  He dropped the shovel and walked out of the garden. I watched as he made his way up the path and toward the barn where he disappeared. Was I supposed to follow him? Was he simply walking away from me? Back to wherever he’d been hiding? Where had he come from anyway? I hosed myself off once again. It would be lovely to go for a swim in the pond I was thinking. Why did he suddenly show up in the middle of the day I was also thinking. The plane must have left Charlottesville early. And all those questions he asked. What could I or would I even want to tell him about my activities when he wasn’t around? Thoughts roiled around in my mind like a school of fish, first heading one way then swerving off together in a different direction.

  Relationships have a life. That life relies on decisions reached at odd, unexpected moments. Two people live together, eat together, have sex, talk about everyday things. They go about their life together as if it will go on the same way indefinitely. People rarely look at what keeps them together, at what their deal was at the beginning and is at any given moment as it moves through time, or what it has tacitly become. Their deal can change. Sometimes the people change but never get around to renegotiating their deal. I didn’t know what our deal was anymore. Maybe I never had understood it.

  I dropped the hose and turned toward the barn. As my gaze rested on the path worn through the field of Queen Anne’s Lace, I spotted Maze, walking toward me, holding a large plastic pitcher and two glasses against his bare chest. The thing was though, the rest of him was naked also. He sauntered down the path grinning and I could see that he would have waved to me if his hands hadn’t been full. He slowed down as he got closer and watched me tentatively, the grin fading to only a sheepish smile now.

  “What are you doing?” I asked as he entered the garden.

  “I thought we needed some refreshment.” He handed me the glasses and filled them up. He placed the pitcher on top of the stubborn stone and then raised his glass high in the air.

  “To the naked gardener,” he grinned again and took a long drink of what I realized was lemonade.

  I drank mine, too. I was very thirsty. I drank the entire glass empty and held it out for a second, watching him as he picked up the pitcher and refilled our glasses.

  “Let’s get this rock the hell out of here,” he said. “If we can get it onto the shovel I think I can pull it out and over to the wall. I can’t lift it, though. It’ll have to sit there. Maybe we can use it as a marker next to the gate. What do you think?”

  I was too stunned to answer.

  We again applied all our strength to the rock and slowly, little by little, we upended it and finally exposed its borders. It was not as round as I had thought judging by its crown alone. Indeed one side of it was rather flat. Maze managed to push this flat side over and onto the shovel. Walking backwards along the garden path, he dragged it to the gate outside the garden and over to where he had long ago cemented the gate post into the ground. When he got the rock against the post, I came to his side and together we pushed and pushed at it, grunting and gasping in deep breaths, until it rolled off the shovel and landed smack against the post where it sat inert in its final resting place.

  I looked over to the hole it had left behind. I didn’t know what to say. Thank you seemed a bit formal. You’re naked seemed a bit obvious. But there was so much I wanted to say. Right now I loved him more than I thought I could ever love anyone again. Right now I would have stayed with him forever. Right now. But then there was the other day and the look of anguish and anger on his face. What happened the next time I resented him or thought he was trying to control me, or that he might at some other time, some time far away in a cloudy future that, on this day, neither of us could see with certainty.

  “Nobody can tell what tomorrow will bring,” Maze said, looking up at a cloud far off in the distance above the trees to the west. “I can’t give you any guarantees. And you can’t give me any. I guess that’s about the whole thing right there.”

  The cloud looked so pretty against the bright blue sky. And darkly ominous at the edges also.

  “I can’t turn back the clock for you. I can’t bring back your wife. And I can’t be her either. You have to let her go if you want to hold onto me.”

  Maze took my hand as we left the garden and wandered over to the pond. He helped me climb up onto the erratic boulder. We sat on it together. I let my feet dangle over the edge into the water.

  “I started gardening naked the first year we were here,” I told him. “Whenever you leave to go to the college, I come out to the garden. Nobody ever comes here. Nobody ever sees me. I never told anyone. Until now. Except I told the others on the canoe trip.”

  “If you had told me I probably wouldn’t have left at all,” Maze said. “I would have watched you all day long. I’ve let my wife go a thousand times. And I’ve clung to you a thousand more. All I have left now is the anger I felt after she died. I was angry at you for going on that trip and then when I saw you riding the falls, I thought I would explode. I wanted to jump in and grab that canoe. And then you handled it so well. Much better than I could have. And it made me feel stupid. And then I was angry at myself.”

  “And now?”

  “Now.” He grunted a little. “I like it out here with nothing on.”

  I didn’t say anything.

  “I’m not ask
ing you to be a good college wife or to join any groups or to change in any way. I don’t need you to adapt to my way of life. I want us to build a life that works for us. Together. I want to stay together but not because I want to replace her with you. I want you. I’ve been feeling angry because ... ”

  I lowered my body from the stone into the cool water. I held onto the stone and looked up at Maze.

  “Because?”

  “Because I felt guilty.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I think of you as my life. And because I didn’t know until I met you what love really was.”

  I grabbed his feet and yanked. He slid into the water. He put his arms around me. We rested against the giant glacial stone that was abandoned on this spot ten thousand years ago. It felt solid, immovable. Yet it had been pushed here by a force greater than its own weight. It would not move again in my lifetime or even in a thousand lifetimes. But one day, perhaps another ice age would descend upon this land, pushing this rock to some other place, depositing it somewhere further south. I had felt it was too dangerous to attach myself to anything permanent because nothing is fixed. I thought if I made my own rules I could let go of the feeling that I couldn’t really hold onto anything. But nobody really makes their own rules. The rules are there. Maybe nature makes them. What could be more unreliable than that? I didn’t know anymore. I wanted to become part of the unpredictable flow of life, to go over its falls with confidence that no matter what happened, I could manage it somehow.

  Maze pulled himself onto the erratic and I pushed off, swam to the other end of the pond, turned and kicked freely in the water lying on my back. Slowly I propelled myself back and looked up at him.

  “Do you think there’s hope for us?”

  He slid back into the water and together we swam down to the other end, turned and came back to the big stone. We climbed out of the water and stretched out on it to rest in the late afternoon sun. I closed my eyes and images of rushing rivers and sleeping trout and painted bodies, of soft southern nights and stately old houses, of Mexican sunsets and debris strewn riverbanks, all swirled together in my mind.

  Maze rubbed my belly. His hand slipped down to my thigh and he rolled onto his side so that his leg was over my legs and his body pressed against mine.

  “Shall we have a baby together, leave Virginia for Vermont every summer, work the farm together, grow old together?” I asked almost of myself.

  “Do you want a baby?” Maze asked.

  “Maybe.”

  I expected him to have all kinds of plans, to be organizing our lives in his head. When he said nothing, I turned to look at him. I traced the line of his nose and chin with my index finger. What would he look like in twenty-five years? How handsome he was now, I thought. The girls in his classes must be in love with him. In twenty-five years would I still be gardening naked?

  It was impossible to answer these questions and I didn’t give voice to them. There are no certainties. I hoped he understood that somewhere deep in his soul. I couldn’t guarantee that it would rain tomorrow or that the sun would shine or that the earth would always tilt exactly as it did today.

  “I’ll accept whatever comes,” Maze spoke without warning. “We don’t have to get married. We can leave things just the way they are now. I don’t want you to feel pressured,” said Maze.

  Couples work out all kinds of arrangements,” I said.

  “Is that what you want?” he asked. “For us to work out an arrangement?”

  “I think I wanted certainty that nothing would change,” I said.

  I wove my fingers between his. I turned on my side to face him.

  “But now I think I’m happy with what we had in Mexico and what we have right here. Mexico and the garden. I’ll hold onto that and the rest I’ll leave to whatever power holds the world together for us. Because there must be such a power. Otherwise we would all just fly off into nothingness and yet here we are.”

  He kissed my shoulder and my neck, cupped my breast in his palm, moved over me in that way he had done the first time on the hard tile patio of my little rented house in Mexico so long ago. I closed my eyes as he lifted my hips to meet him.

  There is a theory in physics that says everything in the universe is composed of very short sub atomic strings constantly vibrating at very subtle frequencies. Vibrating at all times, forever and ever. So vast, so unimaginable, yet predictable in the eons of universe time. And all of it a constant recapitulation where nothing is lost, only transforming into something else.

  We left it there. And the world did not fly off into nothingness. Because everything turns into something else and nothing stays as it is. And yet there we all were, the same, yet different. The years ahead of us would stretch out to include a baby, a house on the farm, canoeing on the Trout River, going over the falls enough times so that Maze took over the stern spot, seeing the rebirth of Trout River Falls, and my integration into a community of women who set out to make a success of what seemed at the beginning an utterly impossible task. How we did it is another story for another time.

  FOR READERS AND BOOK CLUBS

  Questions & Discussion Topics

  Katelyn has a dilemma. Should she marry her professor and make a life with him or leave for a year-long fellowship in Europe and probably lose him?

  Discussion:

  When Katelyn strips off her clothes and heads for the garden naked, do you think she is going toward something or running from something?

  Is Katelyn’s reluctance about marriage justified by her past experience? Do the other women’s opinions about marriage support or contradict Katelyn’s uncertainty about what she will ultimately decide?

  In the first chapter Katelyn resents having to clean up after Maze – albeit in a barn. But this is the traditional role of women. Will this ever change? Should it?

  Is it possible for a woman to be married and maintain the independence and sense of self she had before she married? This is a big worry for Katelyn. Is it for you? Is it for most women?

  Katelyn is concerned about the issue of a man trying to control her. Their argument about hang gliding and canoeing over the Trout River falls is about that. Do women tend to become more accommodating – give up more – after they get married so the marriage will work? Is Katelyn right or wrong to worry about this happening to her?

  Katelyn turns to other women as a counterpoint to her fear that Maze does not understand her. What role do the friendships with the other women play in Katelyn’s life? How about yours? Do you find comfort and understanding with your women friends?

  Each of the women on the canoe trip is facing some kind of challenge.

  Discussion:

  There are references to stones and rocks throughout the book. What do rocks represent where they appear in different places in the story?

  What are the big challenges most women face? Are the five other women on this canoe trip equipped to face the challenges life is throwing at them or do you think they are unable to cope with their dilemmas?

  When Katelyn initiates body painting during the river trip, she gives the women a new way to view their bodies. Why are women so intensely anxious and ambivalent and unhappy about their bodies? Is this societal or are women born with bad feelings about their bodies? In what ways can women counteract all the negative messages thrown at them about their bodies?

  What do you think the scene with the train engineer represents?

  When the storm hits, the story shifts from showing nature tranquil and soothing to threatening and out of control. What does the storm represent in this story?

  There are seven women in this story. They represent a wide range of female maturity and life experience. What do women want from life at different stages? What should they want?

  Saving The Town

  Discussion:

  One of the themes in The Naked Gardener is saving something that has all but collapsed. The farm. The chicken coop. The town. And even relationships within the story. W
hat do you think about this theme? How is it relevant to your life?

  At the town meeting, Katelyn talks about building on the past. How do cultures do this and are they still building or are we destroying the planet more quickly than we can possibly save it?

  Katelyn spends a lot of time in her garden. This is a major theme in the book. What do you do to restore your energy and reconnect to your dreams?

  In the book, the town council is made up of women. Are women more likely to cooperate for the common good or is politics the same game for men and women?

  AN INTERVIEW WITH THE AUTHOR

  Q: People often ask authors where they get their ideas. Where did this idea of a naked gardener come from?

  A: At a certain point in my life, I knew three women who gardened naked. They all had different takes on why they did it but all of them felt it was really important to them. So I began to think about a woman who goes to her garden naked and what that might mean and in what ways it was liberating for her and important in her life.

  Q: Was one of those women you?

  A: Ha! Decidedly not. I’m allergic to bee stings and poison ivy and bug bites of all kinds.

  Q: Do you have a garden?

  A: Not a formal garden any longer, but I love to be outside planting and clipping and weeding and doing all those things that bring me closer to the earth. I love to nurture growing things, including plants and people. Plants always thrive for me. I plant to attract birds and butterflies and I raise orchids and bring them into my greenhouse in the winter so I have blooming plants all year long.

  Q: How about living in a chicken coop. Have you done that?

  A: Well, I did stay as a guest in one for a few days and I have to tell you it was really lovely and delightful.

  Q: Where was that?

  A: In Vermont. My friend and her (oh how I hate this descriptive phrase) significant other were living in a chicken coop at the time and there was another coop attached to a rundown old barn. They made that into the guest coop. I wasn’t the only person who stayed there. It was a prized treat to be invited.