April 16, 2025
April has proven to us all that it is indeed a month
of uncertainty. Is it spring? Is it winter? No one knows for sure this year. A
few weather reports that I caught bits of on television featured the word snow,
followed by the words, “in April!” said with a sufficient amount of indignation
to let us all know that even according to the meteorologists, this was beyond
the norm.
I would submit that it’s beyond the norm these days.
I mean, think about it. Here in my neck of the woods, when I was a child, there
was a hard and fast custom against planting one’s garden before the third week
of May. That was a custom for a reason. For those who’ve never gardened, the
directions on the back of seed packages caution to only plant when all danger of
frost is past. And in my youth it was the general consensus that by mid-May it
was reasonably safe to assume that all danger of frost was, indeed, past.
Reasonably.
Folks, we are in a massive period of uncertainty, and on
more than one level. I now understand that the first sixty-plus years of my life
have spoiled me. I do believe it’s now a possibility that I shall forever after
remain in some way, here and there, out of my comfort zone. If anyone has a
blanky and a pacifier they’re not using, I’d be grateful for the donations.
This past weekend saw the clean up of our back yard
begin. It was a bit bigger of a task than it recently has been, since our yard furniture
didn’t get put away last fall. This meant that the clean up process included a
lot of moving around of stuff to get to the ground. Daughter did most of the
work, with her dad helping as much as he could. She is waiting for it to get a
bit milder with the promise of some of those April showers, so she can execute
her annual grass-seeding of the back yard.
David, for his part, focused on cleaning out his
“shed” which is in fact a storage tent whose best days are done. We’ve
purchased a new, smaller version of the easy to build outside storage unit.
Smaller, because the one he cleaned out didn’t really have a lot of the space
used up—even accounting for the lawn furniture that never made it inside. In
the next week or so, one of our grandsons will be by to assist in the tearing
down of the old and erecting of the new.
One of the things our daughter also did was to pull
all the dead vegetation from our table gardens. This year, rumor has it, a new
strategy will be employed by the head gardener. He’s going to dedicate two of
the tables to green beans, and at least one to tomatoes. There shall no other variety
of plant grown per table except for the designated sort in each garden.
Finally.
One can never tell what the growing season will be
like. The summer before last was an absolutely banner one for tomatoes. This
past summer, our tomato crop was, quite frankly, dismal.
Farming—whether large scale or small—is one endeavor
that depends for its success on so many variables. It’s the original risky
business. So, while we understand that we can’t be promised a bumper crop, or
even an adequate one, we will go forward with the project, regardless.
There is purpose and joy and yes, therapy to be found
in the planning, the planting, and the tending.
Really, one can say that planting a garden is a good
analogy for living a life. One does what one can with what one has on hand. One
takes the time to cherish the steps and the small pleasures that are there,
just for the enjoying, if one looks.
As to the outcome? Well that, my friends, is pretty
much up to God.
Love,
Morgan
http://www.bookstrand.com/morgan-ashbury
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