Eight of Cups and Garden Updates

How many of you feel very “Eight of Cups” these days?

Rider Waite Smith Eight of Cups

Traditionally, this Tarot card shows a figure on a beach as he walks away from eight upright trophies. The Robin Wood deck’s little white book headlines this card as “Enough of this!” It’s a leave-taking, but not due to anger, failure, or frustration. Rather, the Eight of Cups card symbolizes a call towards something new after the old has run its course. There’s a sense of accomplishment and satisfaction to the Eight of Cups, as well as a strong urge to explore the new.

Whenever we reach this state, it feels tempting to throw out the proverbial baby with the bathwater, but the Eight of Cups reminds us to appreciate what we’ve already experienced. The Nine of Cups displays satisfaction, even potential gluttony, but the Eight of Cups reminds us that enough is enough. That can mean the end of things, but it can also become its own mantra of gratitude. “Enough” means we lack nothing. If you find yourself saying, “I am so done with this,” or pining away for a nebulous yet beckoning future, take a moment to honor the journey.

A recent trip to Lake Michigan reminded me of the precarious and expansive nature of our times. The park had laid down a rubber traction mat, which eased the slipping sand journey up and down the dunes. David surmised that the mat also prevented the extreme erosion affecting other parts of this beach. It was a “red flag” day with the single red flag indicating high hazard due to strong currents.

We didn’t intend to swim. I wanted a walk on the beach, and David added to his ever-growing rock collection. Despite hazardous rip tides, the sun, wind, and temperature felt perfect as I walked.

In our urge to move forward, forward, forward, sometimes we need to stop and reassess. Exploring our own emotional waters, we also merge with and echo our surroundings.

We don’t control the tides any more than we override large cycles of time. It helps to enjoy the journey, even as we wander through the liminal space of neither here nor there.

My garden shows the same dynamics as our Lake Michigan getaway. I intended to downsize this year, because I just don’t have it in me to battle groundhogs and water the backyard gardens every day. Even without my direct intervention, much of the garden already flourishes. Between perennials planted years ago and annuals that continually reseed themselves, the casual eye can’t tell I’ve minimized effort.

Appreciation of all the abundance already on offer inspired me to add a little more here and there. I mentioned how I created a hugelkultur bed in the backyard trough, hoping that would save me the trouble of daily watering. Well, not only are those plants doing very well, but it turns out the neighbor’s sprinkler keeps watering just that bed as it happens to spray into our yard. Meanwhile, the clematis we cut back so far last fall has rewarded us with a profusion of purple, as orange day lilies begin to bloom:

We’ve also entered the full bloom period of Robinhood roses:

If you look carefully up front, you’ll find marigolds, eggplant, Russian red and lacinato kale, collards, basil, parsley, rosemary, and tomato plants tucked among the perennials and other herbs:

The daisies in front of the yellow lilies didn’t survive the winter; however, wild daisies are now blooming all over the front gardens. You can just see some of them in the upper right of the above photo, and they scatter highlights of white around the garden with reseeded chamomile and bolting arugula. In place of the former daisies, I added more lilies–gorgeous garden thugs who require little care and survive our winters well:

On the surface, much of the garden remains the same, but a few upgrades save loads of time and effort. Letting go of outcomes also allowed me to see how little care some things need. Once established, many perennials can grow for years. These familiar, well-established things allow us to adjust our efforts and intentions with minimal disruption. Releasing some control can surprise us with how well things work without our interference.

If you feel burned out right now, consider experimenting in well-established areas of life. Some of these may still require tending, but others may want to return time and energy to you. Allowing ourselves to receive the blessings on offer reminds us of life’s beauty and abundance. When we tune into nature, we find what we need. Quite often, life supplies far more than the bare minimum, and when things like my daisies didn’t make it–I received a far wider volume of wild daisies. These look similar, but instead of a few large flowers, I have many, many smaller ones, planted in just the right spots without any input from me.

In the language of flowers, daisies represent “rebirth, new beginnings and hope.” Somehow this feels like a much larger demonstration.