I knew I was getting excited too early about gardening. But it is healing to my soul. After being without a harvest for too long I gave myself permission to indulge in preparing for dinners to come. Sure there were herbs and lavender, potted strawberries, a bit of salad and the pole bean; but that is not the same as tending a garden that nourishes the heart before it fills the stomach. I think I will always adore shopping farmers markets for flats of sun ripened strawberries, stone fruits, apples, pears and sweet local corn. I love when friends and family with a garden have too many carrots or beans to deal with and invite me to relieve them of some of the burden (grin). Gardeners are some of the most generous people you will meet. But as much as I love that, there is still nothing like taking my morning coffee out to my garden to welcome the morning with birdsong as I note what changes have taken place since my last visit.
It awakens my heart with a sense of God given purpose. I know that my impact on this earth is no more then a good season of sweet peas. I don't even care that it is short, sweet and easily out done by others. I just love feeling the pleasure of my God and seeing hope for tomorrow in lessons learned by delicate carrot or onion sprouts struggling to overcome the burden of the loam that weighs them down but soon becomes the anchor and nourishment for life, short though it may be.
However, I was concerned about the unending rain we often receive in the Pacific North West. Ray and I took some time to cover our toy box of a garden with plastic. We do not want our infant sprouts to drown. Can you see the picnic table-clothe weights that we hung from the plastic to keep it in place? That seemed like a fantastic idea until I came out to find it all bunched up behind the garden. Cloths pins pinched plastic to cage and it was still in place this morning.
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