For Jo-Lene
In mid-June, the Harvest Moon Society and the community of Clearwater (and many other people, communities, and organizations) lost a legend when Jo-Lene Gardiner passed away suddenly in Cotswold Way, England. At Jo-Lene’s Celebration of Life, these words were provided by her good friend and Harvest Moon staff member Katie McInnes, and have been re-printed here with the permission of the family.
How do you fill a thousand Jo-Lene shaped holes?
It feels as though a shotgun blast has gone off, shocking the fabric of our community, punching wounds through the veil of life.
There is no way to fill the biggest holes she has left behind: wife, mother, grandmother, sister, friend.
There is no stitch for them, there is nothing to tug at, no repair for the frayed edges, there is no duct tape or gorilla glue or bailing twine strong enough to farmer-fix the biggest wounds left behind by her loss.
How do you even try to capture what she meant to her vast community of people?
A community that extends beyond her loving family, beyond her leadership in Clearwater, beyond the root system of the Harvest Moon Society, beyond the roles she had deepened into as an Elder - in the most reverent sense of the word.
Jo-Lene was powerful. A force, and energizer bunny, always going, always doing, always in movement. Her force was gravitational - pulling people into her orbit and sending them spinning around her with fresh knowledge, fresh ideas, fresh connections to the natural world, and often a freshly baked muffin in their hand.
Jo-lene’s power had depth - in the span of an afternoon, a weekend, or a season she could change you, making a connection that lasted years, decades, lifetimes.
Harvest Moon was the perfect place to wield her power for good; Clearwater the perfect setting. As someone who did not grow up here but has had the luck to call this place home for over a decade, I can tell you that Clearwater is special - and was made special in part by her.
She claimed the unofficial title of Ambassador to this special town and managed to weave a web around every visitor to this place. The web she wove has left sticky strings that tug at every visitors heart each time they think or speak or remember Clearwater. Artists and students and teachers and farmers and new friends and old have passed through the gate of the secret garden or the doors of the learning Centre and become part of her network, her web, her world. Some of us have had the chance to deepen our connection over the past 25 seasons of change in this place. The staff, the board, the community becoming her collaborators, her compatriots, her co-realizers of a better world.
Our town has a reputation. For being welcoming. For being progressive. For being memorable. For having heart. I invite you to reflect on the part Jo-Lene has played in building that reputation just by being herself. I count myself lucky for having her to guide me here - I count myself lucky for having known Jo-Lene. I count myself lucky for having been part of her vision for a better future.
It was her belief in a better world that powered her orbit, that drove her to make an impact. The injustice that she held in her sights - that she chose to speak out against, be it for women, for her indigenous neighbours, for the natural world, for the agricultural community - could have dragged a person down in cynicism and apathy. But Jo-Lene had the gift and the ability to hold injustice in one hand and beauty in the other. She could marvel at the beauty of the fall colours while hanging red dresses in the trees for her missing and murdered sisters. She could whip up the best rhubarb pavlova you’ve ever tasted while lecturing on the important role of women in agriculture. She could teach you about every creature in your critter dipping pail while explaining the adverse effects of soil erosion. She cared deeply and she invited you to care deeply, too.
Jo-Lene’s love for beauty did not stop at the garden gate - Jo-Lene had style. Her home was bright and welcoming and beautiful, her hands often busy with artwork or a craft that would adorn the future world, and she never missed a chance to look good doing it. Years ago, at the annual harvest moon perennial exchange, I captured one of my favourite pictures of Jo-Lene while I was working for the newspaper.
Some visitor to the learning Centre had made the mistake of admiring a plant growing in the garden, and Jo-Lene, without missing a beat, grabbed a shovel so that she could dig the plant up and foist it off on them. Jo-Lene had dressed for a party and was wearing three inch platform sandals, skinny jeans and a drapey sweater. As I raised my camera to capture the moment she stepped her manicured, platformed foot onto the shovel edge to push it around the roots of the plant, she looked directly at me and said, “You know, you really can garden wearing anything.”
In my own shock and grief at the loss of Jo-Lene I have been looking to the Harvest Moon garden to find her. It was, and still is, the best place to learn from her. She welcomed so many people to it, and poured so much of herself into it. She in infused into that garden and she can speak to us through it, instruct us on how to repair some of the smaller holes that are left behind.
“Have you tried building a web?” she might say - through the voice of an orb weaver spider - “You know a web is really good for connecting things back together.”
“Be sure to take a close listen to what’s blooming - the plum blossoms are done but the irises are out - they’ll tell you how to appreciate the fleeting things.”
“Don’t forget to take some tomato plants - I planted too many. And when you eat the tomatoes, remember that they make their own seeds, that you can save them for the future.”
She would probably even praise the quack grass: “Be tenacious, be persistent, be a little annoying if you have to, but be sure to respect strong roots.”
And if we stay long enough and listen hard enough we might hear her explain the inescapable balance of life and of and death, details she now knows from the other side. She might whisper through the shotgun blasted holes in the veil, invite us to put our hands into the unknown and hold them out to receive. She can still place something silvery in our hands from the other side, some thread of her life that we can pull through the dark. And if we are gentle, and don’t tug too hard, we might be able to pull that thread into the light, just as she coaxed life through the dark soil during her seasons here on earth.
The thousand Jo-Lene shaped holes cannot be mended shut - they can only be re-filled. Filled with new acts of community, of depth, of love. Filled with freshly transplanted perennials plants. Filled with muffins, filled with acts against injustice, filled with a welcoming wave to visitors. Filled with stories and memories, especially for her grandchildren - who will continue to know her through all of us.
We can only fill the Jo-Lene shapes holes with care for each other, the holes left behind are her invitation. When you come upon one gaping in your own fabric of life ask yourself - what is Jo-Lene inviting me to fill it with.