Gonna Make this Garden Grow

                       Inch by inch, row by row,

                             Gonna make this garden grow.
                             All it takes is a rake and a hoe

                             And a piece of fertile ground.

                             Inch by inch, row by row someone bless these seeds I sow;
                             Someone warm them from below
                             Til the rain comes tumbling down.

Well, I wish it were that easy.  I spent my afternoon preparing the vegetable garden for planting. In other words, I spent my afternoon weeding.  It seems like spring has finally sprung in western New Jersey, though winter put up a darned good fight.  And with spring came a burst of . . . well . . . weeds.  I can’t get over how many there are, no doubt the result of the fresh soil I added to the beds last year.  I usually don’t mind weeding; I like being outside and gardening has been a hobby for a long time.  But there were A LOT of weeds out there today.  I spent 4 hours weeding, and I’m only half done!  It’s out of control.

                             Pullin’ weeds and pickin’ stones,
                             We are made of dreams and bones.
                             I feel the need to grow my own cause the time is close at hand.
                             Grain for grain, sun and rain I’ll find my way in nature’s chain;
                             I tune my body and my brain to the music of the land.

There’s just something about gardening that brings me back to it every spring, weeds and all.  Perhaps it’s that manly feeling I get when I put vittles on the table grown by my own calloused (read “blistered”) hands.  Maybe it’s the perennial discovery that the asparagus and horseradish keep coming back notwithstanding my poor gardening the year before.  If they can do it, so can I!  But if I had to put a stake in it, it’s just my way of connecting with nature and returning to the simpler things of life.

                             So plant your rows straight and long,
                             And temper them with prayer and song.
                             Mother earth will keep you strong if you give her love and care.
                             Now that crow watching hungrily from his perch in yonder tree;
                             In my garden I’m as free as that feathered thief up there.

I find gardening very liberating:  I can plant what I want to plant and think what I want to think.  In my garden homilies are cultivated among the cabbages, woes are uprooted with the weeds, and prayers are planted alongside the peppers.  The combination of a little physical labor and a lot of fresh air seem to melt the stress away and put life into its proper perspective.  I leave my garden a little tired and much humbled, knowing that I’m not the one who makes the garden grow, and assured that the one who does loves more that I can imagine.  And that’s the most liberating feeling we can have.  But I certainly wouldn't mind if he’d give me a little help with the weeds.

Click HERE for The Garden Song by John Denver (after the Frog)