Garden
In the shade of the giant oak we sat and reminisced about respective friends, family, and past experiences. Midst the beauty of the garden he designed long before the ALS overtook his freedom to dig, mulch and plant, a passion exceeded only by his love of music, we cherished moments of common interests in gardening, cooking and general every day aspects of life. For that hour and a half we were transported from the routine of managing life’s negotiated impediments to a magical place of sheer presence in the garden of the living past and present. As our time of freedom from agenda came to a close I was overtaken with a sense of gratitude for this time of sharing and the beautiful and bright garden so lovingly crafted from which we were about to depart. Gratitude and the care of others who value the human designer of the garden serve as nourishment for the garden’s growth and bounty of flowers springing forth as its testimony. For that time, for that place, and for the sharing of friendship and life’s blessings, we give thanks. From dreams and toil come the roots that ignite fresh memories in the soil of thankfulness. We are grateful to uncover each day that life is greater than a diagnosis. It blossoms brightly within the garden of gratitude in the midst of its creator!
Broccoli slips planted two weeks ago are thriving and asparagus should be sprouting up any day. The time is arriving soon when the rest of the garden can be planted without concern for frost or freezing. Spring has emerged full force from the throes of winter bringing with it warm days and cool nights and random showers to moisten the fields. Birds are at times frantically preoccupied with the building of nests virtually anywhere safe from the elements. Life’s cycle in nature is manifesting itself yet again as it demonstrates the wonder of creation. In two days I too will take a step toward renewal as I submit to the cardiologist’s skill at “cardioversion.” Through either medication effects or my unique cardiac perception of time and space, my atrium has engaged consistently in flutter and fibrillation. The winter of rapid pulse rate is soon drawing to a close and the spring of normal sinus rhythm is around the corner. As I anticipate the procedure that will literally stop my heart and “shock” it back to a normal rate I must do so with a metaphorical heart placed in the hands of gratitude for the opportunity to have this done. I have studied the risks of such a procedure as well as the consequences of doing nothing and I have chosen to engage the former. Trust and faith are both at work as I look ahead to an outcome that is both renewing and rewarding. Grace will sustain the outcome however it may unfold!
Cooler and more moderate breezes flow today through the trees and garden here on the farm. This is such a welcomed reprieve from the scorching high humidity days experienced just a week ago. As a child growing up here before the days of central air conditioning and heat, the windows in spring, summer, and fall were opened wide to accept any breezes that might blow through to keep the heat from overtaking us. Most of the time in those years was spent out of doors, working the fields, playing with friends, or exploring the streams and springs under the canopy of the forest. Although chores were consistent, there was always time for discovering new and different ways of enjoying the hazy days of summer. Indulging the cauldron of memories of those youthful summers stirs up a delightful aroma of gratitude that permeates today. Morning chores completed, this boomer can now bask in the sheltered breeze with a good book and thankful memories that become a vital part of tomorrow’s recollection.
The air is crisp and the sun is rising as the dew reflects the light’s embrace. Lettuce leaves stand erect, full of moisture and snap easily at the twist of my nimble fingers. Blackberry, the rabbit is about to be served his morning feast of freshly harvested greens, satiating his quest for daily sustenance. Green tomatoes weigh down the already drooping plants as the last crop of summer hastens its journey to harvest before the first frost of fall. As Gracie, the Golden Retriever pup races through the now grass flooded pathways between the garden beds, I’m reminded that my lack of weeding this summer has rendered a crop of grass as robust as the vegetables so lovingly planted and nurtured. The grass knows not that it is not welcomed. It was there long before the well crafted square foot garden. Nonetheless, its unwelcomed presence must be attended in anticipation of next spring’s bounty, so the task for this weekend is etched in the mind’s agenda. The weeds and grass must be diminished lest they overtake the well planned crop. I can’t help but recognize the uncanny symbolism between the weeds and the crop in the garden and the challenges I find in life. If I don’t stay ahead of the “weeding” game of exercise of body, mind, and soul, the “weeds” of stiffness, melancholy and self-absorption creep in to overtake the crop of ongoing agility, thankfulness, and care for the well being of others. Weeding done, I find comfort in the presence of myself, my maker, and others. My “weeding” requires attention and I am grateful that each day presents the opportunity to reflect on “how did your garden grow?”