Here’s what we’ve been eating from the potager: lots of green and yellow wax beans; cucumbers with fresh dill; cherry tomatoes and one Golden Boy tomato (we’d have more but the chipmunks steal them); plenty of purple and green basil; stir-fried zucchini and crookneck squash, with scallions, and sweet peppers, seasoned with coriander and turmeric. We’ll be dining on chard, New Zealand spinach and beets this weekend.
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Cezanne is supposed to have said, “The day is coming when a single carrot, freshly observed, will set off a revolution.” I know something happens in me when I pull a carrot from the row. Maybe not a revolution but a revelation. My thoughts go something like this: the creator did this, made this orange finger, this soil digger with green frond. All I put into it was a speck of time, a bit of my energy. I planted the merest seed that took more than two weeks to germinate. And here is the result in my fist. Carrots are good for my eyes. They help me see God in a fresh way.
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The bright, clear yellow daylily is blooming in the garden bed north of John’s workshop. It was a gift from a friend when our daughter Jeanine died. It blooms every year around the time of her death. The beauty of this lily reminds me of Jeanine. It is also a cheerful reminder of the resurrection of Jesus Christ, of the astounding fact that death is not final for those who believe in Christ and trust Him to save them. Our loved ones who have died in faith are with their Savior, Jesus. They are full of life and joy. They will be our welcoming party when it’s our time to go home.
