My garden in May - just starting to work the soil after a long winter.
It's a large garden. The small section in the foreground is about half the size of the original, in the back.
Mostly, I grow vegetables. I figure, why spend money (that I don't have) to buy organic vegetables, when I can spend that nonexistent money on seeds, tools, and equipment that will enable me to go out and grow those vegetables myself? In my very own (borrowed) dirt? So, no, I don't think gardening saves me much money, if any. And it's a huge dedication of time, which I never have enough of. And I get very dirty. And often hot. And my tomatoes have failed 3 years in a row (please God keep my tomatoes safe this year!).
Came home from vacation to these little buggers 2 years ago. Eating my heirloom tomatoes, started from seed in my front window in April. I drowned every last one of them. Horrifying experience - they were the size of kittens.
But you know what? These are the things I love. I love that I get to spend hours on my own, with nothing but my thoughts. I love getting my hands in dirt. I love feeling the sun soaking into my skin. And I love that sometimes, my vegetables die. Bugs eat them. Frost kills them. Weeds choke them. Rain drowns them or drought cooks them. It reminds me that the world isn't perfect, that producing food is hard, and that I have a lot to learn. Stop planting things in the same place twice - you know that already. Pay attention to the weather and try watering things once in a while. Smother that back corner and kill that blasted bindweed already - you're never going to win against rhizomes picking them like dandelions.
And I love - love, love, love - my flowers. I probably plant about a dozen varieties a year, and I'll be lucky if 3 of them work out. The rest just turn into weed patches. But look at these. Aren't they pretty? Don't they just make you smile?
Bachelor's buttons, grown last year.
And look - there's a bee in one of them. I'm helping to save the bees. Well, some bees, anyway. And we won't mention the one I stepped on a couple weeks ago.
Not everyone appreciates gardening, or gardens, or flowers or bees, like I do. And while I'm ok being different, it can sometimes be disheartening. Like, maybe the things I think are important really aren't.
But then I go out to my garden, and remember: God made these flowers. He's not just looking down on them, evaluating them like a judge at a county fair. He freaking MADE them. He made their ancestors thousands of years ago. He made the seeds that contained the genetic material and the very life that allowed them to reproduce and spread in all their varieties. He made the bees that pollinated them, and the gardeners who chose them, picking which ones to propagate until finally, he sent the rain that germinated my little handful of seeds, and the sunshine that guided the growth of those seedlings. Each little petal is perfectly, intimately, formed by his hands.
God cares more about these flowers than I ever could. And he knew that I would love them. And I think that makes him as happy as it makes me.
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