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Life Began in a Garden
Putting in the gardens in our new place has been a lot of achy-back labor, but it’s all coming together beautifully. I enjoy all my time spent gardening, whether it’s a simple pass through without gloves just to see what’s new and pull up a tiny invader, or whether it’s an entire day digging, chopping roots, hauling mulch. Most days fall somewhere in between.
Whether life began there or not, the garden is where to see life, to breathe it in, to discover how small we are in the grand scope of God’s plan. It’s a place of discovery.
Last fall I met two tiny creatures who crawl out of the ancient fruit cellar to sunbathe on the warm wall of the house. One is green, one is brown; they always travel together. Standing still I watched them kissing, holding hands, and playing. I also watched in startled amazement at how fast these lazy critters can snag their lunch out of the air! And, share it with each other.
The garden is where I watched the birds teach and learn bird protocol. A line of various kinds of birds were sitting on the fence taking turns hopping down to the bird bath for a splash-around. I’d seen birds flit in and out before, but now I was really watching what was happening. The bird at the end of the line took his turn, flew off, then the next one in line. When an interloper showed up and without taking his place at the end of the line on the fence, went straight for the water, the others all screeched and tweeted and flew at him and chased him. In a few moments they returned and took their exact position on the fence, waiting patiently for their turn in the same order as before. The chastised bird joined them and took his position at the end of the line. I was totally flabbergasted. There are other worlds all around us and they can be observed in the garden.
This week I was cleaning up around the core of an old plant, pulling out the ivy and old leaves and checking for dead canes, trying to determine if this old flowering quince would stay or go. I uncovered a little heap of mulch and felt certain the brown earth just moved under the mulch. I fingered it a little bit and discovered that brown earth was a fat, warty toad in hibernation and in complete camo. “Oops, sorry,” I said. But when I gently covered him with the mulch, I discovered he was faking. Hanging from his mouth was a baby earthworm wiggling to be free. Mr. Toad looked like he was slurping an angel hair pasta, with his eyes closed, and barely breathing. So now I know a hibernation secret. They eat. They just don’t move and lunch is served in bed.
I’ve been watching an incredible growth in the mulch. Over night a fungus that looks like a brown rubber rose pops up willy-nilly in random places. How can it grow so big so fast? Why can’t pretty things grow as fast as the not-so-pretty? There are so many secrets to discover, so much to learn in a garden, to say nothing of the entertainment value! Get out there and get crackin’. It’s going to be a beautiful spring, any day now.