I can think of better things to do when it's raining than garden. But sometimes, a woman has to roll up her sleeves, jump into the mud, and make things grow.
I am thinking a great deal about gardens lately, as two weeks of building beds, hauling topsoil, and expanding further and further down the hill I live and plant on comes to a close (thoughts like how on earth am I going to maintain 300+ square feet of vegetables, fruit, and herbs by myself; where am I going to store this stuff when I start harvesting and processing in about a month; why won't the dogs stop trying to nap in the potato beds; and who really needs 4 rows of bok choy?). Several thoughts in particular continue to strike me:
First, making things grow, literally and metaphorically, is a tremendous undertaking that demands physical and emotional energy, not to mention the courage to examine the spiritual. This year I will grow herbs ("regular" and cinnamon basil, rosemary, marjoram, thyme, catnip, peppermint, stevia, three types of oregano, dill, cilantro, and a few others that escape me now); summer squash; winter squash; giant pumpkins; white pumpkins (why not?); yellow taxi, roma, steak, cherry, and "golden sunrise" tomatoes; jalapeno, serrano, and habanero peppers; green and stoplight bell peppers; lettuce, hot mustard, mild mustard, ruffled endive, arugula, and "fancy" mixed salad greens; kholrabi; bok choy; green and yellow onions; snap and sweet peas; radishes; fingerling, baby golden, and red potatoes; strawberries; key and mexican sweet limes; tangerines; grapefruit; lemons; and hopefully, almonds. All of these plants must be cared for daily, harvested, then processed - either used immediately, canned, dehydrated, frozen, smoked, or some combination of the above. This can be back-breaking, hand-hardening work. This is work that provides for me, my animals, and my family. This is work that provokes wonder and faith - to watch seeds grow, blossom, fruit; to rummage in the dirt while your animals frolic in the green that you nurture; to sleep sound in the knowledge that no matter what happens to WalMart, you are provided for... this is to know God.
I am continually amazed by the number of people who express surprise when I regularly choose my garden, my land, my animals, over the more traditional pursuits of those living in southern California. These are the same people who click their tongues against their teeth and make disapproving noises at the blisters on my hands. While sores from breaking the ground are not the most feminine thing, I can think of nothing more glittering and attractive than a woman who uses her body, her skills, her talents, and the resources around her for the good of herself and those she loves. These are the signs of a country raising, that's true, but sure as I sit here, when fancy houses start sliding down hills, WalMart closes in the face of war with Asia, and prices rise until people pray the state will fall into the ocean, the country will need women who don't shy away from blisters, never stop in the face of a few burns, and aren't afraid to get their hands dirty.
A few garden views; the primary beds are here, on two levels, but there are several others scattered around. Multiple smaller beds make upkeep easier and the workload more manageable.
