Memorial weekend is always the weekend our garden goes in. The manure was spread months ago, next the tilling of the soil. I love fresh tilled soil it is so dark and rich as it awaits planting day.
We have selected our plants, every year we try something new, this year it’s brussel sprouts. We map out the plan and then it’s time for the seeds and plants to go in. There is something sacred about having your hands in the dirt of the Earth. We watch amazed as tiny seeds and fragile starter plants quickly take root and grow strong in the fertile soil.
At first the garden looks perfect, not a weed in sight, and the new plants are standing up strong and tall in the rich dark soil. We go to great lengths to protect them, making sure they have enough water, hoping for enough sunshine and covering them when a late frost comes.
By mid-summer the plants are four times their size and the hope of fruit is beginning to show itself. It is also a time when a battle begins, the battle against the weeds who want to choke the life out of our precious plants. Weeds do not need cared for or protected and they seem to thrive in any condition.
We weed, we water, and we protect. The long-awaited day arrives, the day of the first fruit, and this begins the steady flow of good things from the garden.
For if the first fruit is holy, the lump is also holy; and if the root is holy, so are the branches. Romans 11:16
Oh Lord, that I will be holy as You are holy.
