Rabbit Lessons
What you can learn about democracy from your garden
There is a rabbit — possibly two — that has been conducting a slow and methodical demolition of my flower garden. I planted the flowers a few days ago and walked outside today with my coffee. And found a few sad stubs. The soil around them was scattered and overturned. I stood there for a long moment. Then I went back inside and refilled my mug. I care about my flower garden, but if I’m honest, what keeps me up at night has nothing to do with rabbits. I care and worry about our democracy.
I’ve noticed something about gardening, and about other soft, absorbing hobbies: they can make us feel productive without having to engage or worry about the larger world – the news of the day. You can spend a whole Saturday with your hands in the dirt and emerge satisfied, having thought about nothing harder than aphids – or in my case, rabbits. And that’s OK. We all need a break.
The rabbits, I’ve decided, are doing me a favor. Every time I walk outside and find another casualty of their nightly raids, I am reminded that there are some (many) things in life beyond my direct control. But I can pay attention to the things that are actually within reach and are important to my effort, like our democracy, which also requires tending.
Staying Engaged
Political engagement has become a phrase that sometimes gets used to mean very specific, and often very narrow, things. Like an instruction to attend every rally, to regularly pen Letters to the Editor, or to have a hot take ready on LinkedIn or Instagram for every development. Nothing wrong with that. But that version of engagement can burn people out and may produce more heat than light.
What I mean is something quieter and more durable. It means knowing who represents you at every level — city council, school board, state legislature — not just the names that appear on the national news. It means reading your local paper, if one still exists, or showing up to a town meeting. It means voting in the primaries, which most people don’t, and where the actual choices are so often made.
The Long Game Is the Only Game
Here’s what I’ve come to believe after years of watching both gardens and governments: The long game is the only game. The rabbit will eat my flowers this summer. They will probably grow back next year, or I’ll plant them again with something different, something the rabbits find less appealing. The garden is always in negotiation with forces larger than itself.
Democracy works the same way. It requires people to be in it for the long haul — not just for the dramatic moments, the high-stakes elections, the news cycles that feel like emergencies — but for the slow, unglamorous, absolutely necessary work of knowing what’s happening and making their voice count wherever they can.
The stakes of that are so much higher than my flowers and the pesky rabbits. I’m not going to replant this year. The rabbits can finish them off. I’ve got democracy to tend to.
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I personally believe that gardening, if done right…as many native plants as possible, pollinator plants, as few chemicals as possible, and yes, making it wildlife friendly…is probably actually better for us in the long run than being involved in politics. That said, I vote every election, read my local paper, stay active on NextDoor, and email my city and state representatives occasionally. But no matter whom I vote for, and no matter who is in power, things don’t change much. Certainly rarely for the better. So I’d rather just work on the things within my control, like building a wildlife and pollinator friendly garden, self-care, making enough money to survive, living in the moment, and doing things I enjoy. I spent decades as an activist for animals, women, and education. Not much changed from it quite frankly.