What I've learned so far from planting plants

My parents were not big garden/yard hobby people. They preferred to read, watch TV, do crosswords or travel. In my first marriage, my deeply introverted husband desired to garden in a personal, no-talking zone. Being an extrovert and a garden neophyte, I left it all to him for decades. Time passed till one year at seminary (mid-life & post-divorce) I bought a rose bush and put it in a container. It didn't die. Then I bought little flowers and kept them in some old wooden planters. They didn't die either. Before long I had herbs and even a cherry tomatoes plant hanging off the railings and I was happy. I had fresh herbs again and the tomatoes tasted really good. 

At the same time I was preparing to graduate from seminary, I was also preparing to marry again and to take up residence in a real house with a real yard. I started tomato and basil plants from seed and nurtured the little starts in my seminary apartment before moving them into their (and mine) new home. I just now planted my fourth round of future yummy goodness in the former sandbox outside my writing desk window. 

While I still consider myself to be a plant-tender newby, I've learned a few things along the way. 

#1 - fresh food grown within ten feet of my back door is really really good tasting stuff.

#2 - slugs & snails agree with me 

#3 - Life Wants To Live.

Life Wants to Live

So color me obvious but right now, the most profound thing I've learned from my garden is how much life wants to live.

We had a tree in the front yard that was to all appearances dead, dead, and dead. No leaves, no buds, nothing and for over a year.  So finally we had it cut down and sure enough, little baby tree-etts started springing up all over the yard. (Lawn mower wins).

We replaced a fence last year. As part of that process, our neighbor cut - to the ground - a long growing Potato Vine (at least that's what I think it was called). It's well on it's way back coming up from the roots.

I had set some potatoes aside for seed last fall and when I looked at them earlier this spring they were all shriveled up, but they also had big colorless stem-like fingers extending outward all over. I thought I was too late or I hadn't kept them well but I threw the potatoes into the dirt anyway. Now, here they are with green leaves and (I hope) yummy potatoe-goodness underneath. 

 

A couple of years ago, it became clear that the beautiful and very tall redwoods in our tiny little backyard were threatening not only our house but several of our immediate neighbors. They had to go. We planted a Meyers Lemon tree in replacement which has struggled in the clay & redwood-acidic soil. It dropped a lot of leaves the first spring but is now busy doing its best to put on flowers & bud up some lemons. Pretty much everything in this corner has struggled except for the big purple Wallflower (Erysimum Bowles Mauve) which is in its fourth year with us. My Sunset Western Garden book seems to think that it should be dead by now. The plants it is crowding may be wishing for the same thing. I don't know. I just stuck it in the dirt & try to make sure it has enough water and fertilizer. All this stuff just grows - and that alone is Grace itself. I receive beauty and sustenance with not much effort on my part. 

I started some food from seed a month or so ago. The tomatoes and the tomatillas popped right up in the window and moved along. The weather turned warm, even too hot, so I moved the plants into the ground. Then (of course), the whole season turned around and went back to wet and cool. Great for the pea crop, not so much for the tomatoes. You can see that the fruit-wannabes are dreaming of a much warmer climate right now but I'm not real worried about them. 

Here is why:  If you look close at the tip of one of my plants you'll see that there's new growth about to start pushing up.   

Life wants to live

I try to tie my postings back to theological teachings, scripturally centered. I think there are very deep and important truths for us in the stories we remember and teach each other about the Trinity at work in our lives. I think there is some great insights in our theological thinking that helps ground us in our faith. At the same time, I think God also speaks to us in less formal tones and cadences. 

I have a friend, ordained in the PC(USA) as a Minister of the Word and Sacrament, who once told me that her number one spiritual practice is to go pop a beer and sit on the back porch and watch the tomato plants grow. 

So now let the basil say, Amen. 

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Anitra Kitts lives, writes, cooks and watches growing things in Northern California. A graduate of San Francisco Theological Seminary, Anitra is a Certified Candidate for the Ministry of the Word and Sacrament.