Roses in December

           A garden symbolizes labor of hand and heart.  The original one was created with God's loving touch in only six days; and, while something did die after Adam and Eve sinned, it was not The Garden.  Our Creator was and is a perpetual gardener and saw "that it was good" (Genesis) in spite of human folly.

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       Tend the ground,  plant the seed, nurture with water, weed, and de-bug.   These gardening basics worked almost to perfection last summer for my neighbor Kristen and me.  The rains were timely and abundant; the produce was exceptional.  As our garden grew, so did our friendship.  And fittingly enough, Kristen and husband Colt were fruitful and multiplied as son Caleb was born in early July.  We had plenty of squash, okra, tomatoes, and dirty diapers.  What a difference a year makes (although Caleb does still have dirty diapers).



God gave us memories so that we could have roses in December.
 --J.M. Barrie--

    Cracks have replaced vines; rusted tomato cans are exposed. The Drought of 2011 is upon us.      

     And sadly, nature mimics my heart as Kristen and Colt and Caleb prepare to leave for opportunities over 1,500 miles away.   Such long distances  hinder frequent tending and nurturing; relationships, like the soil, often succumb to "droughts," too.

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          Growing a vegetable garden last summer produced more than just food for the table. The care of that small plot of land cultivated a friendship.   

          And unlike the soil that is at the mercy of a much-needed rainfall, we can ward off a drought with postcards from D.C., e-mails, new photos of Caleb, and perhaps a train trip or two to the Mid-Atlantic area. 

           To my friends, the McCooks--safe travels, fruitful studies, and welcoming arms back home when visits are possible. Texas, and I, will miss you.

           Help us to be ever faithful gardeners of the spirit, who know that without darkness nothing comes to birth, and without light nothing flowers. --May Sarton--