"I went in search of my mother's garden and found my own" was on a plaque I saw while antiquing this summer.
It got me to thinking about Mom's garden. . .
My mother's garden was a source of joy from browsing through the Burpee seed catalogue in the Winter to her last harvest of tomatoes, cukes and peppers in late September producing her tasty relish.
My Mom said she could work out lots of life situations as she tilled and toiled in her garden. She'd work the dirt and forcefully hoe the rows as she thought through the challenges that were at hand. I remember the garden was also her retreat when all three of us kids would practice our instruments -- flute, trombone and drums.
I know the garden was what kept us busy as kids growing up in Illinois during those long hot summers. She'd be in the garden at sun-up to pull the ears of corn before it got too hot so we could shuck them for her to begin the process of cutting, blanching and quick-cooling her corn for the freezer. (This produced the sweetest, most scrumptious creamed corn.) Next it might be beans to break for canning or cans to wash for the tomatoes or peaches she was putting up for winter.
Mom believed working the soil was good for a person and loved the resurrection of new life in the early spring. She saw so much of God's wonder in watching the tiny seeds transform into fruit, flowers and veggies. During her last months with us, I realized that my garden was a place I could find God's comfort.
Fall's coming soon and my garden will be at it's peak -- the colors will be deeper and richer -- the brisk mornings remind me that Winters on it's way and we will get to begin this cycle all over again.
His righteousness will be like a garden in early spring, filled with young plants, springing up everywhere. Isaiah 61:11.
No comments:
Post a Comment