Spiritual Gardening

Roto-tilling in Condon

I’ve done it.  I have finished “putting in” my vegetable garden.  A few weeks ago I borrowed the neighbor’s rototiller ripping up bone dry sod and soil.  At that time, I “laid out” half of the garden in a labyrinth pattern using dried leaves from the elm tree and holly bushes. I even congratulated myself on my “green” approach to creating "the path."

Dried leaf path

In my initial gardening endeavor, I planted peas, sunflowers, marigolds (yes, mixing flowers with vegetables for color) three tomato plants, and dill.  

Then the weather changed.  Cold wind and rain. My path became general ground cover. Not everything we try is a success, but that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t try something new, different, or experimental.  How else can we grow in our talents, in our faith?  Learning #1:  Dried leaves do not necessarily make the best material for a labyrinth path with the winds of Eastern Oregon.

During the rains and COLD, I decided that I would not make a second labyrinth pattern for the garden. For the "right-hand side" of the graden, I planned to plant in rows with some hills for squash and cucumbers.  I sized up the seeds I had purchased, how I could utilize the space best, and decided rows would be okay. Learning #2: You can only do what you can do.

Labyrinth as originally laid out

Today (Sunday, June 2) the sun shone and the temperatures were in the upper 60’s.  After church, visiting Summit Springs Village with Tim, and lunch at the Roundup, I attacked the garden with a fervor to plant.  First I weeded where grass and morning glories were trying to regain a foothold.  Weeding is good spiritual practice.  It reminds us that we must “weed out” things in our lives that are unhealthy, destructive, or overburdensome.  Some weeds are difficult to get out.  We have to dig deep - in the garden or in ourselves. Lesson #3: Weeding is not only necessary, it’s good for us.

Waiting to see what grows

My next gardening task was to remake the labyrinth path so I knew where to plant the rest of my “starts” and seeds.  I tried using the hoe which made a nice trench, but then when I hoed between the rings of the path for planting - well - I soon became confused.  What was the path and what was wax bean row? Learning #4: Wait to see what happens.

Wherever I planted my beets, wax beans, eggplant, and green peppers is where I planted them.  Now I wait. When they sprout and grow, the path will become apparent.  We don’t like to wait.  At least I don’t.  I can be spontaneous, but with much of my life, I want a map, an agenda, an expectation of what happens next. And whatever is to occur, I want it to happen immediately.  Life, as we know, is not that tidy. My labyrinth path will where it will be.  I will walk the path amidst my veggies and flowers knowing that it is the path that G-d has for me now.  Learning #5 G-d not only provides the path for us, G-d walks the path with us.

The Morning Commute - Phlox

I spotted them a couple of weeks ago as I snaked through the canyon on my way from Condon to work in Hood River.  Phlox.  Pretty purplish-blue phlox, growing wild-as-you-please on the walls of the canyon beside the road.  I had to stop.  I had to take a picture.  The phlox overwhelmed me with a sense of happiness, hope, and contentment.

Wild phlox along on canyon wall on Rt 206.

You see, we had bluish-purple (I am bad with colors) phlox growing below the terraced bit I created in the front of the house in Wheeling, WV.  I never completed the master plan of removing all of the creeping juniper and terracing the whole hill, but I kept dreaming.

The day I "built" my wall  - such as it was - Dad was there.  He was in town for my installation service, and I was very happy for his presence.  My loving father-in-law insisted on "helping" me as I dug, leveled, and built this wall with retaining wall blocks (like I knew what I was doing.)  Unfortunately below our work area was a mass of creeping, ground covering juniper.  When Dad tells the story, he insists I pushed him.  The truth is that all on his own, with one false step, he slid down the hill atop the juniper, bounced off of my Saturn, and hit the pavement.  Standing helplessly, I watched as he fell in that frightening slow-motion-can't-stop-it sort of way.  After the adrenaline rush and with a little TLC, some ice, and banishment from the wall project (except as spectator), Dad was fine.  The incident, however, has taken on legendary status in the family. ("She pushed me." "You fell."  "Yes, after you pushed me." "Dad!" "What?")

A couple of years later, as my terracing project languished, in an uncharacteristic move by Tim, he came home one day with a few pots of phlox.  Tim never gets involved in the gardening.  But, he said, he was at the Kroger, and they were pretty, and, well, he liked the color.  So, I tore out weeds and some of the demonic juniper and planted the phlox.  Over the years it grew, expanding and commanding the space once occupied by unwanted plants.  They were very pretty.

Much like my phlox in WV.

The contentment and happiness I felt when I saw the wild phlox on the way to work a couple of weeks ago, I know is connected to those memories.  What could have been a tragic accident, is now a family tease.  What was once difficult space to manage was transformed by the phlox into beauty.  The commonality between the store bought and wild phlox is a reminder of God's continuing good creation.  I had to stop.  I had to take a picture.  I had to smile for the rest of my drive into work, because phlox is totally awesome.