To grow, or the act of growing, can be observed through countless different lenses: personal growth, intellectual or emotional growth, the growth of children, the growth in a skill set. At any given time, you may be the one growing, or the one nurturing the growth.
Another way to observe growth can be seen outdoors, in nature. There are wonderful people in the world who work farms. There are folks who can grow a home garden, those who nurture bees and birds. Others spend hours over seed catalogs and at the garden center. There are those among us who can name flowers and plants along a hike or on a neighborhood walk as easy as they can count to ten. What amazing talents these people have.
I am not one of these people. I thought that being from a more rural state meant that I had this skill in my DNA, but this is not the case. I’ve kept a potted orchid alive for 5 years, and it actually still blooms now and then. But that was the extent of my “garden” skills.
Last summer, after taking out an old orange tree in our yard which was past its prime, we looked at this wee patch of dirt and decided to try to get a garden going. My first thought? This will not go well.
But with summer, and a clean view of a nice little area of dirt, came the optimism that maybe we could actually grow a little vegetable patch. To our future garden’s benefit, I have a very optimistic and patient husband. We researched how to best use our limited space. We built a container terrace out of cinder blocks and redwood boards, and blended our soil to make the richest base possible. We put in a drip system with a timer so we wouldn’t waste water, or forget to water the garden.
With the containers ready, we tromped off to get the plants, as seedlings and seeds. Tomatoes, zucchini, peppers, the basics. Planting the seedlings felt a little like cheating– they were already growing and flowering– even I couldn’t mess that up (I hoped). But could we make the seeds grow? Surely those little seeds know I’m no good at this, and we’ll have a big empty patch.
In go the seeds: a row of carrots, then onions, and peppers. Add water and sun. Wait. Repeat.
Every day I would go out to our little garden patch, looking past the seedlings which were doing alright, to my delight. Staring closely at the dirt patches where the tiny seeds were planted, I would hunt and hunt for the first signs of growth. And then, I saw it. There was definitely was a lump in the soil. Surely was something trying to bust out to find daylight. Then, three weeks in, there was a whole row of soil rising up, in every place we had put seeds. Before long I could see the faintest of thin green tendrils where carrots were supposed to be. Then onions, then peppers. We did it! Well into the summer, we had our harvest. And we’re doing it again this year, with a lot more confidence.
Our little garden has helped me grow in patience, and reminds me to try new things, to stretch myself. This growing patience, confidence and curiosity reaches well beyond my garden, into my spiritual life. When I first came to St. James’, I must have been like one of the seedlings: I had a little head start having grown up Episcopalian, but was in need of some tending– I needed the spiritual equivalent of water and sun, and the confidence of a good gardener. As I would come to discover, the gardener watching over me is more than God alone, it is also my new family at St. James’. All of this tending and growth gives me a life I can easily, and gratefully, call bountiful.
I wish you all a warm and safe summer. May it be full of growth– for yourself, and in the helping of others grow as well.
~ Meg Amouroux, Jr. Warden