“There are some things we can never really possess; we simply take our brief turn at tending them,” writes author Dominique Browning about relationships, homes, and gardens. Our children are with us for a short time. Then gone from our homes tending to own adventures in life. Remember they belong to our heavenly Father from conception on. Our homes whether you reside for 5 or 50 years are molded to suit your needs. Then you move to establish another residence elsewhere based on new needs and desires, and for some people multiple times in your lifetime. “Summer set lip to earth’s bosom bare, and left the flushed print in a poppy there,” poet Francis Thompson writes. Gardens differ from the voluntary poppy blooming on the lakeside, a potted geranium, trays of microgreens, elaborate rows of organic beans in raised beds, to the caged tomato plants. All tended with care by the gardener and mother nature.
Jane Lewis’ song Tend Me Like a Garden defines “tending” well …
I wish you would tend me like I was a garden. Start me from scratch, babe, right from seed. You could plant me with your bare hands in the springtime. And bring me water whenever I had the need. Tend me, tend me like a garden. Love me, love me like the rain. I will give you all that you can harvest. ‘Til the first frost steals me away. Oh won’t you take me into your garden. Lie with me on this fertile ground. I will feed you with my body. And bathe you in the sunshine coming down. Tend me, tend me like a garden. Love me, love me like the rain. I will give you all that you can harvest. ‘Til the first frost steals me away. I will love you through all of the seasons. I’ll weather what the fall and summer bring. I may lie fallow in the winter. But I swear that I’ll remember you in spring. Tend me, tend me like a garden. Love me, love me like the rain. I will give you all that you can harvest. ‘Til the first frost steals me away I swear that I’ll remember you…
What relationship in your life needs tending today?
“We have learned that more of the ‘earth-earthiness’ would solve our social problems, remove many isms from our vocabulary, and purify our art. And so we often wish those who interpret life for us by pen or brush would buy a trowel and pack of seeds.” Ruth R. Blodgett.
The week-long sunshine and humidity boosted garden growth. Clean, crisp leaves of arugula and leaf lettuce will make a big bowl of salad for the family crowd this week. My sister is in town from Minnesota, cause for celebration.
Sweat beaded my neckline, and then down my back and chest as I harvest the garden greens. Already 88 at 10 am. Soon salty droplets dribble onto my lips. The greens are almost sweet before the extreme afternoon temps turn them bitter. Are not we all?
The herbs thrive in the summer heat, with plenty of water. More chives need cutting. Snipette of tender dill and cilantro came ready in a couple of days. Next week I will be freezing my surplus herbs for the winter meals. The pea blossoms produced 1-inch pea pods in a matter of a week. Plant scraps are added to the compost. Earthy goodness. Primal to my taste buds. Organic gardening..
“We have learned that more of the “earth-earthiness” would solve our social problems, remove many isms from our vocabulary, and purify our art. And so we often wish that those who interpret life for us by pen or brush would buy a trowel and pack of seeds.” Ruth R. Blodgett is quoted about the practicality and sociology of a garden.
If everyone tended to their own garden, there would be no time for “isms”. How down to earth can you get with a garden? Very. Just my take on life today in St. Louis, Missouri. The garden is where I would rather be.
Fill our hearts our homes
Overflow food love laughter
Down to earth garden.
Anna Marie Gall
August 11, 2014
I ponder the Photo Challenge of the Week: Hands. I keep coming back to the famous art work by Michelangelo’s “Hands of God And Adam”. Adam literally means “earth” in Hebrew, what God called His first man. This Hebrew word is derived from a word which means “to be red”, ruddy color like man’s skin or the Akkadian word “adamu” meaning “to make”. According to Genesis, Adam was made from the earth “adamah”.
With gardening, I feel the presence of God in all my senses. I touch the dirt, the living earth. I smell the basil as I plant it in the terra cotta pot, and hear the raindrops fall on its leaves. My eyes and heart see the delicate pink hibuscus blossom opened wide to the sunlight peaking above the green tree tops. And I taste the goodness of God when I indulge in my salad greens. God is good!