Tag Archives: garden

Growing Season

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We fan the seed packets out like playing cards. My granddaughter chooses Red Leaf lettuce, Sweet Basil and Bouquet Dill. I pick Tarragon and Jewel Nasturtiums. We take them outside and find the rusty trowel and a small hoe. She loosens the soil and draws a line with her finger before carefully placing the tiny lettuce seeds, patting a veil of earth over them with the other hand. She fills the watering can she once called “flower shower”. My seed picks unopened, I stand watching her with a fullness in my heart that makes my eyes sprinkle.

seeds will sprout green and grow deep

loved by a sun warmed hand and heart

little girl also growing

Markers

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I have previously written about my love for feathers, how a long time I ago I began to recognize the finding of a feather as a small signal that God is present.  Often when I pray for myself or others I pray for hiding under the shadow of His wing.  It is very simple, I choose these tiny found objects as reminders of how God has been and will be with me.  This is not the only reminder, there is evidence all around me in my home and garden.  Recently as I was reading passages in the Old Testament which speak of the stone markers erected to remind both present and future generations of God’s help, I realized these and my feathers are doing the same thing – simply saying “remember!”

“Samuel took a large stone and placed it between the towns of Mizpah and Jeshanah. He named it Ebenezer—”the stone of help”—for he said, “Up to this point the Lord has helped us!” —1 Samuel 7:12, NLT

Here I raise mine Ebenezer;
hither by thy help I’m come;
and I hope, by thy good pleasure,
safely to arrive at home.
Jesus sought me when a stranger,
wandering from the fold of God;
he, to rescue me from danger,
interposed his precious blood. —Come, Thou Fount of Every Blessing

Surviving

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Gardens are such good storytellers!  The climbing rose in this picture is on an arbor by our backyard fish pond.  It is a Peggy Martin rose.  For those who may have never heard this story, I will tell you it is named for the woman who grew it in her garden near New Orleans, along with hundreds of other roses before Hurricane Katrina.  All the roses were under about 20′ of salt water for two weeks following the hurricane. When she was finally able to return to visit their property she found new growth on this one rose, all that remained. In the devastation she also lost her elderly parents, her home, and commercial fishing boat that her husband used to supplement their income.  She didn’t even know the name of the rose since a cutting had been given to her by mother in law who had also been given a cutting.

Dr. Bill Welch from Texas A&M along with other antique rose experts and growers helped to get the newly named “Peggy Martin” rose into the marketplace where proceeds help restore gardens throughout the South devastated by Katrina and other forces of nature.

The story always makes me wonder what made this rose any different from the rest to give it the resilience and fortitude to say “I’m still here and growing better.”   One thing has to be that its roots were stronger and deeper.  I am still thinking about the fact that its cuttings root very easily…it is flexible and can handle change.  The telling of all this has to include a theme of restoration, too.  Out of the Martins’ great loss has come a way to help others.

What a good gardening story!  Soul gardening, too.

Connections

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John Muir said, “When one tugs at a single thing in nature, he finds it attached to the rest of the world.”  This year the early blooming trees are particularly beautiful. Redbuds, Huisache, Plums, Bradford pears are a riot of purples and yellows and lacy whites along with still bare branches. When I go for a walk, I often find myself at a standstill, stopped in my tracks at the sight of one tree bursting with color.  A turn of my head brings more flowering.  The trees lead me to each other, all singing songs of fresh starts.

Greening in the Rain

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Right now we have a large dove population in our back yard. I know this because when I walk outside, I often startle a pair or two on the walkways or fence. I love finding their nests. This one is on the top of arches where a climbing antique rose grows. I can stand underneath it, which is where this photo was taken.

Greening in the Rain

Peaceful garden, greening in the rain
Roses blooming, shattering, scattering confetti on the flagstone
Hyacinth thrusting up a sweet purple bouquet
Doves building twig nests in twining vines.

Roses blooming, shattering, scattering confetti?
Shaken by startled darting wings –
Doves, building twig nests in twining vines
Petaled path inviting passage.

Shaken by startled darting wings,
I am stilled as I see their nest,
Petaled path inviting passage
Peaceful garden, greening in the rain.

What Each Morning Brings

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I almost missed it.  I nearly overlooked the cobalt and cloud blue ruffles of this tiny iris that seems to have bloomed overnight.  Three years ago, I gave Joe a garden gift for Father’s Day:  a mail order collection of iris bulbs in all shades of blue and purple.  Eleven  came up that year, all  but one.  The next year only three or four dusky green blades pushed through.  Last year, none.  So I wasn’t expecting to find this lovely offering.  I am grateful to notice what this morning brought to light.  Richard Wilbur’s poem adds to my note to self:  notice what each morning brings!

In the strict sense, of course,
We invent nothing, merely bearing witness
To what each morning brings again to light:
Gold crosses, cornices, astonishment
Of panes, the turbine-vent which natural law
Spins on the grill-end of the diner’s roof,
Then grass and grackles or, at the end of town
In sheen-swept pastureland, the horse’s neck
Clothed with its usual thunder, and the stones
Beginning now to tug their shadows in
And track the air with glitter. All these things
Are there before us; there before we look
Or fail to look; there to be seen or not.
~ from Lying, by Richard Wilbur