I can’t say, I took up gardening five years ago, because, actually gardening
seemed to have taken me up. It all
started very innocently when looking at a small area of ground and thinking of “what
a garden my dad could have raised there.”
My mind flew back to Saratoga
and dad standing in the middle of his garden, broad smile, sweat soaked shirt,
hands crusted with moist dirt holding a bunch of carrots, beets, or array of other
vegetables. I think he knew everything
about plants. Standing there I confessed
to myself I knew nothing about plants. I
had watched for years as my dad and grandmother working their gardens and
flower beds, always appreciating the interplay of planting, nurturing, harvesting, along
with the color and texture created by the various flowers, trees, and shrubs.
But I didn't know the first thing about the process of cultivating or caring
for a vegetable or flower garden, and as far as I was concerned, the details
involved in that process were best left up to dad and grandmother.
But all of that changed when standing there I found unintentional tears running down my cheeks. It was those thoughts that initiated me into the wonders of gardening, without overwhelming me with the details. Memories are fascinating starters. I “built up” the beds by bringing in “sandy, looming soil,” as dad called it, fertilized the “dickens out of it,” as gradma added her sweet, soft, instructive voice. Then I sat in tilling, removing rocks, and leveling to perfection, just like dad would do. It was a couple of nights, sleeping on it, and the decision of what sort of seeds were to be used. Burpee, I thought. The only kind dad would use other than the one’s grandmother had saved from her harvest the previous year. It's the perfect kind of seed, I thought, for a novice gardener! I planted and began looking immediately, after watering, to see if anything had sprouted. Then, in just a few days, I was amazed by how quickly each row began to appear and the plants seemed to put down roots in my heart. My first ever endeavor of the planting, tending and harvesting those plants was the cause of experiencing my amazing wonder at how something so small (like a memory or seed) can become extraordinary after 66 years of life.
Well, it didn’t take long after the first harvest before I began thinking and dreaming, exploring seed catalogs and nurseries, trying my hand at plants that required more attention and care: broccoli, brussel sprouts, cauliflower, pole beans, raspberries, black berries, cyclamen, iris, lilies, tulips, and a whole assortment of garden flora and fauna. I grew enchanted by the variety of tastes, color, texture, and arrangement each new species added to my gardens. I learned about specific care regimens, their particular pests, the difference between a partial-sun and partial-shade plant, and how soil acidity impacts the taste, and color of certain types of plants.
More than all of this, gardening took me up because gardening quickly grew in me a sense of wonder. I suspect God had a plan when the memory introduced me to my first garden. He knew that gardening would introduce me to the extraordinary in the ordinary. I’ve learned that I cannot help but begin to pay attention to the tiniest details as I garden, and in turn, begin to notice all kinds of other awe-producing details all around me. The varieties of the color green in the trees, grasses, plants and shrubs, the nuances of blue and aqua hues that shimmer on lakes and oceans, and the little creatures that share the world with me—birds, rabbits, coyotes, squirrels, deer, and dogs. Living now, during the summer, in
The Christian Scriptures indicate that the natural response to wonder is worship. Indeed, the psalmist suggests that the very detailed elements of creation proclaim the glory and worship of God: The heavens are telling of the glory of God; and their expanse is declaring the work of his hands! I’m beginning to realize more than ever; I am drawn into the very presence of God when I wonder in God's creation. I affirm the beauty and the goodness of God as I wonder at and with and for creation. And as I wonder, I agree with God that all God made "was very good" Genesis 1:31.
I confess, Heavenly Father, there are more times than I would like that I loose my sense of wonder. My life, at times gets too busy, too laden with care or comfort or grief that I cannot see Your extraordinary presence in the ordinary details of life. And sometimes You seem far off and unreachable, and I long for the tending and nurturing of a gardener for myself. I cannot explain away that longing any more than the psalmist, who expressed a similar lament when You felt far off to him. But I do know that nurturing my own garden and wondering aloud at the beauty of color and intricacy, I am comforted by the declarations of creation—of gardens and waters and heavens who seem confident, not only that there is a Gardener ,but One who is very good.
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