This summer, I planted my first garden in ten years. I used to be big into growing things until I got busy growing myself. Working a job, raising children, earning a degree or two, these things got in the way of playing in the dirt. But after having two giant trees cut down in my backyard, suddenly, the area was flooded with light and a garden became a possibility once again. My green thumb was a little rusty from not having gripped any garden tools in ages, but things started coming together.
Now, one month later, the garden beds are filled with food: lettuce, snap peas, beets, green beans, basil, onions, rosemary, zucchini, cucumbers, tomatoes and peppers. The obvious outcome of tending a garden is fresh, free produce as close as the back yard.
Beyond that, it has a life of its own – like a summer guest who lives in a cottage out back. Each evening, when the sun throws lean shadows across the lawn, I wander out to see how things are going, to check if water is needed. This time of day is a winding down, a relaxing moment with no demands. I pull a weed or two, munch on a few pea pods picked fresh from the vine, still warm.
More than any vegetable, berry or herb, a garden gives you pause; and in that moment of silence, faith in the abundance of a Universal good that flows around and through each of us. Putting a seed in the ground is nothing but an idea of something greater. Who would have thought a tiny black speck could hold the potential to become a head of lettuce or a broccoli plant?
But they do. It’s the same with you and your thoughts. One thought can hold the potential for a YOU that is much greater, bigger and finer than anything you could imagine. And that is what a garden gives you, a chance to believe.