I find it hard to throw myself into something if my life doesn’t depend on it. My siblings and I used to use phrase, “Do it right, or don’t do it at all,” and it came to my head last week. I didn’t realize it's a motto I still chant under my breath. Yesterday, I … Continue reading The Worth of a Garden
This article was written for AnchoredPassion.com. I grew up between two brothers and down the street from three more boys, so I learned right away you’d never score a touchdown if you didn’t know how to juke. I was fast, but so were they, and without a quick stop, pump, and twist, I’d never make … Continue reading Play (Or Plod) To Win
I wrote a letter to my friend, Sarah, last week and told her I’m suffering from Gardening Shame. There are weeds in every box, and I haven’t re-mulched the paths, so black tarp shows through like the garden’s underwear. My tomato plants won't take to the soil and stand limp. Zoysia grass creeps in and … Continue reading Gardening Shame
There were seeds that got thumb-printed into the ground, and there was bread dough that hadn’t risen. There were farmers and fishermen. There were women in labor, who groaned and bled into the darkness. Jesus saw what surrounded him and pulled it into the stories he told, because a King and Kingdom had come, were … Continue reading Like a Seed
It’s that time of year when I go hunting for spring, checking every corner for it the way Frog and Toad did in their Adventures. We have a patch of early bulb shoots, but our yard stands blank compared to Papa Larry’s. I worked in his front gardens yesterday afternoon, straightening up soil fencing with … Continue reading Destined to Rise
I was standing at the window this time last year, staring at the blank ground. My imagination had to stretch and bend to arrange irises, daffodils, zucchinis, cucumbers, and lettuce in their proper beds and boxes. I was sick with spring fever, and all I could do was write about it. But this winter, I’ve … Continue reading Seedtime
October 18 I spent my free time last week ripping out the weedy leftovers of my garden. It was hot work because in Missouri, something called Indian Summer has swept away a brisk September. The afternoons warm to eighty degrees, while the trees blush and give away bouquets of leaves. It’s an awkward stage, because … Continue reading Indian Summer
Good writers are good pruners. They know when to pick up the shears and how much to chop. William Zinsser taught me that. “Be grateful for everything you can throw away. Reexamine every word you put on paper. Is every word doing new work? …Is anything pompous or pretentious or faddish? Are you hanging onto … Continue reading On Writing, Weeding, and Walking in the Light
May 10 Growing up, I planted tomatoes with Mom this time every spring. We’d buy a tray at Platt’s Nursery and squeeze each soil block out of its pocket. She made sure they were in the ground before Mother’s Day. My siblings and I usually skipped out of school for an afternoon of gardening. “Pluck … Continue reading Mom’s Tomato Plants
May 3 I want to be a gardener—to know my botanical names, to identify seeds, to plant them so they grow the best possible fruit. Someday, I want to be that little old lady who wears sunhats and keeps seeds in her sweater pockets. But I’m a beginner. If gardening is an art (which I … Continue reading On Gardening and Belonging
