05/11/2025
Year 17 of Les jardiniers à bicyclette.
~From Ian
Recently I was going through the motions for a garden build on a chilly, damp morning—kind of on autopilot. The thought sometimes popping into my head was, “Yeah, I have a good job, and I still love the outdoors even though it feels like a wet towel today.” But a lot of my idealism from 17 years ago has drifted away, watching society at large derail into hyper-materialism, bloating militarism, volcanic vanity, and politicians promising salvation through a “strong economy” which I translate as a draconic beast devouring resources and crushing sentient beings under its talons.
But during this job, I got a jolt after seeing so much teeming in a handful of dirt—tiny ants, a couple worms, a whitish spider, a pill bug— the soil was trumpeting, “Life!” I started to understand that, in the midst of it all, Les jardiniers à bicyclette is like a travelling sideshow of utopian possibilities, floating like a fluffy seed over the tumult. Spinning those bike pedals, we weren’t stinking up the air with vehicle exhaust, and insect life glided off us rather than going splat on a windshield. Really nice people (retired nurses and teachers, activists, writers, a monk, and others) paid us, decently but not exorbitantly, and we operated with zero-waste/no-trace principles, not conveniently sending off garbage to be dumped onto other critters’ homes. Some of the gardens we have made and tended to feel like shrines to nature, others like portals for people to access the biosphere in all its vividness.
In a world that doesn’t seem to have many deeply and expansively conscientious vocations, I know they are possible. One example of that lifework was created by Les jardiniers à bicyclette; and there are a handful of us travelling around within its aura. It’s interesting that the word “vocation” suggests “a calling” with its Latin roots: “vocāre” meaning “to call”. Conscientious Gardening calls people to it, and calls out as it is done. For the truest sensation of hope, I needed to see in my lifetime that a better world was possible. I have seen now, and I have the deepest hope. That world is here if you look closely in the nooks, sometimes rattling along on a rickety bike, carting battered tools, seed sachets, curios and wisdom.