weeds, seeds, & other ingredients
If it requires faith to plant a garden, then today I added a foot to my spiritual stature.
Hubby graciously tilled the ground for me, as he does every spring. Only, this season I didn't don my gardening gloves soon enough to extricate a knee-high wedge of weedy green. Along with my trusty basket of seeds and a dainty trowel, I armed myself with a metal rake and hoe today. This was not an exercise for the faint of heart. Fishing the whole darn plot for clumps of tangly white roots was daunting. But letting them regroup under my newly-sown seed would spell doom for weeks to come.
When I finally threw in the trowel, (yes, the trowel...) I was resigned that there were probably a hundred and six more clumps to be slung skyward. Yeah, I'll admit to an attitude. Three heaping wheelbarrows were my spoil though, and the dumping of them behind the barn was sweet. (Die, weeds. Or at least, thrive where I can't see you.)
Those seeds were going in, sir. Plant them I must, because no one loves to pluck a bowl of fresh salad-fixin's more than yours truly. I must admit, the temptation to strew the whole furrowed ground with Scotts turf-builder (and be done with it) marched before my gritty eyes a few times. But glory be: faith prevailed. I know the weeds will be conquered, the sky will open with warm rain, tendrils will be coaxed into bloom, and the harvest will appear.
"Now faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see."
Hebrews 11:1a
Hubby graciously tilled the ground for me, as he does every spring. Only, this season I didn't don my gardening gloves soon enough to extricate a knee-high wedge of weedy green. Along with my trusty basket of seeds and a dainty trowel, I armed myself with a metal rake and hoe today. This was not an exercise for the faint of heart. Fishing the whole darn plot for clumps of tangly white roots was daunting. But letting them regroup under my newly-sown seed would spell doom for weeks to come.
When I finally threw in the trowel, (yes, the trowel...) I was resigned that there were probably a hundred and six more clumps to be slung skyward. Yeah, I'll admit to an attitude. Three heaping wheelbarrows were my spoil though, and the dumping of them behind the barn was sweet. (Die, weeds. Or at least, thrive where I can't see you.)
Those seeds were going in, sir. Plant them I must, because no one loves to pluck a bowl of fresh salad-fixin's more than yours truly. I must admit, the temptation to strew the whole furrowed ground with Scotts turf-builder (and be done with it) marched before my gritty eyes a few times. But glory be: faith prevailed. I know the weeds will be conquered, the sky will open with warm rain, tendrils will be coaxed into bloom, and the harvest will appear.
"Now faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see."
Hebrews 11:1a
posted by thisrequiresthought at 9:31 PM
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