The sweet ruliness of gardens

Last year

This time last year, I was watching our last garden at the old house sprout while marveling at the unruliness of nature .  No matter how carefully planned and diagrammed, things were always popping up in unplanned places, or being eaten before their time by insects and other unwanted garden foragers.  Still it was lovely, and I was reveling in my role as co-creator in such a beautiful, bountiful mess.

This year, I am watching our first garden in our new place begin to grow, and feel inspired by the “ruliness” of it.  I take comfort in the fact that if you plant a seed and water it, it will sprout and grow – there or here.  I visit the garden each morning to see how things are getting along - who needs water, who’s been chewed by caterpillars. I am soothed even by the familiar, nasty habit of the caterpillars (aka cutworms) who denude a plant of its leaves during the night and then hide in the soil next to it (right where I can find it) by morning.  When I hand-water, mockingbirds come to watch just like before. There was a frost the week after planting out tomatoes, like there always is. 

I read some beautiful reflections on gardening this week by Victor Guroian, a theologian/professor and avid gardener.  He’s an Orthodox Christian and believes that God reveals himself through created things – the earth and all that lives here.  The idea of learning about the creator through what he/she has created rings true to me.

I’m not always sure what "religion" I fall under these days. I think of myself still as Catholic and cling to the example of good people who have lived that faith – Oscar Romero, Dorothy Day, St. Francis, and certain less famous Catholic I’ve known up close - while at the same time recoiling from the hierarchical power structure and the abuses thereof.  But I still can’t not believe in a Creator no matter how angry and disgusted I may feel, especially when I’m in the garden.  I keep finding evidence of a wild and unpredictable God that enlivens us and surprises us. And some days I am comforted and intrigued by the constancy and sense of eternity around me - the worm, the fruit, sprouting seeds, decaying compost - all still here, no matter where I'm at. 

This year - row of baby sunflowers

Comments

[becky]

kelli,
i think i lost my first attempt to post a comment, so i'll try again. (today's theme must be persistence.)

i thought of you today while listening to Democracy Now. You can access the show online and watch a video of it. Two interviews may be of interest to you. the first is about Gov. Richardson and leading activists travelling to Rome, where the Gov. met with the Pope and a ceremony at the Colosseum honored New Mexico's recent repeal of the death penalty. (this took 12 years of persistent effort.)

the second interview is with father john dear a jesuit priest who has been arrested over 75 times for his efforts to call for change in our culture's approach to war, nuclear weapons and poverty. he has a new book out called A Persistent Peace, One Man's Struggle for a Non-Violent World.

if you have time, i think you'll enjoy the interviews.

thank you for this post. i especially liked reading the links to oscar romero, dorothy day and st. francis.