Tuesday, October 12, 2010
autumn and a garden
From the last two weeks of August I have had an unexpected gift of being home with my darling one and a half year old son daily. Today during his nap I had some thirty minutes of standing around our young wild looking vegetable garden that consists of some herbs, twigs, weeds, two determined strawberry plants, a cheerful crowding of cherry tomatoes, and a few leafy plants of Kale permited to grow by protective thistles that triumphed over little hungry garden visitors.
In months of mid-summer, when the afternoon is very quiet, one can find herself swatting away at boredom, or even less welcome, the looming buzz of lonliness. But solitude and quiet in the Fall is a comforting mug of cider. The earth is a cathedral of orange and red stainglass and silence calls the heart to mystery and adoration. Things are whole in the Fall, beauty and death have found each other in a lovely mandola and we know that if the earth has done it, it is okay to surrender.
I also have been appreciating the way in which this small vegetable patch crouched beside the deck has grown a personality in recent weeks. It's expanded beyond an amature attempt to grow something in the suburbs, or hasty trips to the garden centre, or even kind advice at the office. With foilege drying up in preperation for the sacred ritual of dying, it has taken a kind of enchanted posture toward the world, one of having always been, knowing old secrets.
I am thankful for this garden and the manner in which caring for it invites me to a greater awe for the beauty that surrounds me. Beauty that is a Good Creator, and the loving man in my life. Beauty that is in my little son, his wild looking curls. He too has grown a personality in recent weeks and taken an enchanted posture towards his world. My heart is filled with mystery and adoration.