The landscaping stars finally aligned -- energy, weather, time, motivation. This weekend we finally recreated the flower beds excavated for foundation repair last fall, and organized the flats of annuals purchased from the church youth; finally re-engineered the rail-hung planters on the back deck and weeded the front flower bed of perennials. And as the sun was setting, the complaints of our muscles were outshouted by the satisfaction of our eyes -- and souls. It is, if I do say so myself, beautiful. Oh, there are prettier, more elaborate gardens. To call ours "modest" would be charitable. Three simple beds and a few accent planters and pots are our claim to horticultural fame, but our few hours shoveling and fingering the soil and the roots and the mulch are satisfying enough, at least for the time at hand.
Why is that we are drawn to such endeavors? Why is that people all over the neighborhood, all over town and country, from sea to shining sea and beyond are drawn to gardens of one kind or another? It could be a longing to contribute some mark of beauty wherever reasonable. It could be some instinctual drive to participate with life in the nurture of growing things. Perhaps it is the residue of childlike impulses to sink our fingers in the soil and get playfully, deliciously dirty, or perhaps it is the echo of our divine image prone to acts of creation. Perhaps, in the swirl of 24/7, it is the craving to see some task completed -- or if never really completed, at least plainly reflect the satisfying result of hard work contributed. In my day job it's often hard to see that anything ever comes from my efforts. A well-tended garden, while requiring some measure of patience, is not ambiguous or demure about its flattery.
Perhaps the breadth of attractions reveals the depth of the appeal -- beauty, satisfaction, creative endeavor, a sense of the holy; tactile, visual, and spiritual gratification. All of which is to conclude that we better keep gardening. How else will we stay grounded --in more ways than one? Suddenly the soil beneath my fingernails looks like commendation...
...and call to prayer.
Why is that we are drawn to such endeavors? Why is that people all over the neighborhood, all over town and country, from sea to shining sea and beyond are drawn to gardens of one kind or another? It could be a longing to contribute some mark of beauty wherever reasonable. It could be some instinctual drive to participate with life in the nurture of growing things. Perhaps it is the residue of childlike impulses to sink our fingers in the soil and get playfully, deliciously dirty, or perhaps it is the echo of our divine image prone to acts of creation. Perhaps, in the swirl of 24/7, it is the craving to see some task completed -- or if never really completed, at least plainly reflect the satisfying result of hard work contributed. In my day job it's often hard to see that anything ever comes from my efforts. A well-tended garden, while requiring some measure of patience, is not ambiguous or demure about its flattery.
Perhaps the breadth of attractions reveals the depth of the appeal -- beauty, satisfaction, creative endeavor, a sense of the holy; tactile, visual, and spiritual gratification. All of which is to conclude that we better keep gardening. How else will we stay grounded --in more ways than one? Suddenly the soil beneath my fingernails looks like commendation...
...and call to prayer.
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1 comment:
I count my blessings every time I drive up my driveway. I am home, where I "grew". Where my parents planted me. Not many folks truly get to "go home again", but I did. Ron and I planted our kids here, and now their kids are often, temporarily, planted here. I'm thankful.
Our house has no basement. Many large closets that frequently demand clearing irritate me, but I clean them. What I resent the most about them is that, this time of year, they keep me from where I really want to be, which is outside, in the garden. I need to dig in that good Iowa dirt. I plant flowers, and vegetables, and trees. I'm thankful.
Our house has no second story. There is not one step or stair in my home. That will be nice in our old age - it's already mostly wheelchair accessible! One visitor a few years ago described it as "so Zen-like, close to the earth". I liked that. I'm blessed. It's definitley not a charmed life, but I am persistently aware and in awe of my many blessings.
God created a beautiful and wondrous place for his people.
I hope everyone gets their chance to get their hands dirty this spring. I'll pray for that.
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