Gardening

While Marc and I were out and about tonight, we stopped by my parents' house for a bit. Every time we drop by, I just have to admire their vegetable garden that is growing so lushly. It's one of my favorite retreats. As we went about running other errands, before I knew it we were at our local home improvement store, perusing the plant section. I thought I had decided I wasn't going to do a garden this year.

Turns out that I can't resist plants. We came home with a beautiful array of colorful flowers to plant in the empty pot on our front porch. I'm already looking forward to the welcome they will offer every time we come home. And, to fill the small, empty garden box in the backyard we found some tomatoes, sweet (irresistable) basil, and lemon cucumber plants. As soon as we returned home, I found my green thumb was anxious to come out. I spent an hour with my hands in the dirt, carefully securing our new plants, excited to have something to look after and nurture for the summer.

After scrubbing the dirt from underneath my fingernails, I started my preparations for my long Wednesday. It's my favorite day of the week that takes me down to the Bay and up to my little piece of heaven on earth. The two hour drive, each way, is so worth what I get in return.

With my hands busy with the peanut butter and strawberry jam (for lunch tomorrow), Marc joined me in the kitchen to get his hands working on dinner. He whipped out a delicious Mexican meal of black beans, mexican rice, corn tortillas, and other various toppings. It was seriously so good. 

As I was eating dinner (made even sweeter by the love with which it was made), thinking about our new garden, a cool breeze came in through the window. The smell of freshly cut grass suddenly joined my thoughts. I was reminded that there are small things that bring me joy. I keep feeling disappointed in not having the one joy we desire - having a child - but, tonight I was grateful to find joy come from some small ones.

A spontaneous whim to buy a few plants was my relief today.

In every walk with nature one receives far more than he seeks.

 - John Muir

Planting Bulbs for Springtime

A few weeks ago my Mom asked me to plant some daffodil bulbs in their front yard, so that when they get home from their mission in a few months that they'll be able to enjoy some yellow beautifulness. So, I picked up some bulbs, which have been sitting in a bag waiting for me to find my gardening gloves and my handy little kneeling pad. Last night I was looking over the instructions, hoping that I haven't missed the prime planting time yet. I was happy to find that for where we live the ideal planting time is October to December, with the specific instructions:

Plant in the fall, before the first frost hardens the soil.

It made me think of something I read recently (I don't remember where, though)... something about planting a tiny seed of hope in our hearts, even if it's hidden under the many wintry layers of grief and sorrow. When I read it, I imagined my heart covered in winter snow and there underneath it all - a seed, waiting for the winter to pass and the sun's warmth so that it can blossom. It makes my heart warm to think of something with beautiful potential lying dormant under the winter soil, sure to bring joy and beauty after a cold and dreary winter.

In the past (and very recent past, I might add) I've had a really hard time with the principle of hope. It feels so risky to put my emotions and expectations on the line {again}, not having a perfect knowledge of whether or not what I hope for will actually come true. If I give myself permission to hope for something I desire with all my heart, then I worry that I'm setting myself up for further failure, greater disappointment and another hard fall. It can be so scary to hope.

But, then I'm reminded of this quote attributed to Theodore Roosevelt: Far better it is to dare mighty things, to win glorious triumphs, even though checkered by failure, than to take rank with those poor spirits who neither enjoy much nor suffer much, because they live in the grey twilight that knows not victory nor defeat.

I find it rather interesting, though, that putting my hope in the potential of these daffodil bulbs to grow doesn't trigger any risky feelings at all. If I didn't know better, I might be very skeptical about how these bulbs could survive the frozen winter ground and still emerge in the spring as beautiful flowers. I might think it's a waste of money, time, and energy, and not even bother planting them.

But, I've planted enough bulbs and seen enough bulbs blossom that I know that good things come from the time I spend planting these bulbs. And, besides, even if there are some that don't bloom, there are enough bulbs being planted that it won't make a difference. The key is that in order to enjoy the flowers, the bulbs have to be planted. I know it's obvious... but, they will not grow if they have not been planted.

So, while I am digging and placing these daffodil bulbs, I find myself wandering through the garden of my heart. Gratefully the soil is still good, and if I use my agency to choose to plant good things there, then good things will surely come. Otherwise, I can decide it's too scary and risky to plant seeds of hope, allowing my heart to be over-run with despair and discouragement. It's really my choice what gets planted.

Rather than let despair and fear keep me from planting bulbs of hope in my heart, I'm just going to plant enough that beauty is sure to abound. Having the courage and faith to dare to hope, puts me in a position to allow God to continue to fill my life with His blessings. I've dared to hope for the impossible before and was blessed in greater abundance than what I had hoped for. Who am I to place limits on God and His power to bless my life, even with miracles if necessary?

So, I'll do the planting now, brace myself for whatever winter brings, and patiently wait for my Springtime. I don't know when it will come, how much longer the wait will be, but it will come. I do know that. And, plus, if we're commanded to have hope, then I know God will prepare the way before me, and have mercy on me because I'm choosing to hope {still}... not only for the blessings that await in the next life, but for blessings He has in store for me now. 

I know there is so much still to hope for. 

Gardens

When I told a close friend about the early delivery and sudden parting of our little girls, her advice was, "surround yourself with reminders of life."

With that advice I've spent some time outside, cultivating some plants in terrible need of attention. One day I worked on a tree - digging around the base of the tree, taking out rocks that were affecting its growth, and then adding some rich soil instead. Another day I nurtured our indoor plants, pulling off the dead leaves, and adding more good soil to each plant. 

While spending time with my hands in the dirt, I've been reminded of some important things:

1. I love the smell of soil... and I love getting my hands in it.

2. Rocks are rarely good for plants.

3. Good soil is always good for plants. 

4. If you leave your garden without planting "good" plants, then it'll most likely be overrun with "undesirable" plants, like weeds.

I know these are really basic facts to even the least experienced gardener. But, I've been struck with how they relate to my life right now. 

I've always found joy in working in our garden, whether with vegetables or flowers or other plants. But, lately digging in the dirt has also been a source of healing for me. While pulling out rocks, I find myself wondering - are there "rocks" in my life affecting my ability to grow?

And, while adding in fresh, new soil, I question - what is the nature of the soil in my heart? Am I softened enough to accept the good seeds that are being planted? Or will hardness and bitterness keep those good seeds from bringing continued growth and goodness to my life?

I have to be honest, over the last couple of weeks it has been really easy to entertain the thoughts of "why me?" and "what if..." and "if only..."  As I've chosen to push those thoughts out, I've realized that's only the first step. It isn't enough to avoid the bad thoughts, just like it isn't enough to pull out the weeds... they'll just keep coming back. The mind is like a garden, where good thoughts must be planted, so that there is no place for the unwelcome thoughts to find a home. 

So, rather than allowing those destructive questions to fill the garden of my mind, I have been focusing on planting thoughts that inspire gratitude for the blessings we've received. Right now, in these early stages, it's still a battle to push those tempting questions aside, but as we do we become more aware of and grateful for the blessings in our life... and dare I say even the blessings of this trial. 

I love the words of the Savior, in the parable of the sower (Matthew 13):

  3 And he spake many things unto them in parables, saying, Behold, a sower went forth to sow; 
  4 And when he sowed, some seeds fell by the way side, and the fowls came and devoured them up: 
  5 Some fell upon stony places, where they had not much earth: and forthwith they sprung up, because they had no deepness of earth: 
  6 And when the sun was up, they were scorched; and because they had no root, they withered away. 
  7 And some fell among thorns; and the thorns sprung up, and choked them: 
  8 But other fell into good ground, and brought forth fruit, some an hundredfold, some sixtyfold, some thirtyfold. 
  9 Who hath ears to hear, let him hear.

I hope we always choose to have softened hearts, ready to receive the hundredfold of blessings the Lord is anxiously waiting to give.

With all these thoughts in mind we decided to plant a new rose bush in our front yard, in honor of Elliana and Emmaline. It serves as a reminder to fill the gardens of our minds with thoughts as beautiful as our peach-colored roses. And, another reminder that there really are many blessings to be found... even amongst the thorns. 

Sweet Green Peas

I've been planting vegetable gardens since my college days at BYU. In those days, usually because of procrastination, I wouldn't plant my garden until mid-June. Which basically meant that if I wanted any "fruits" from my labors before the cold weather came again, I had to buy plants already started.

Well, for the first time ever, a little over two months ago, we planted our garden with seeds! Since we planted them in late March, I figured I would have plenty of time to still buy plants if we couldn't get the seeds started on our own. But, miraculously, we have been very successful with our garden this year! Hooray!!



Last night I went out to water the garden and just sat and admired the beautiful peas that are growing in abundance. I had to steal a couple off the vines right then. They are crisp and sweet, I can almost feel the healthiness seeping out of them. They are so yummy, and I might add healthy, too!

In the past, I had never grown peas because the green pea plants were always sold out by the time I got around to going to the local nurseries. So, since I started from seeds this year, I just had to plant peas. Mainly for two reasons:

1. Because I love peas. They are my favorite snack food. I love them in stir-fry and in fresh salads. But, I mostly like them unadulturated, raw and fresh, just off the vine.

2. Because peas remind me of memories with my Grandpa. One of my favorite childhood memories is trips to Grandpa's house in Utah - he'd take us out to his little garden and show us his plants. He'd let us feast on whatever vegetables we could find. My favorites were his green peas. I loved time in the garden with Grandpa. I never would have thought a memory like that would mean so much to me today.

Here's a photo of our triangular garden boxes. Other than peas, we've also planted tomatoes, squash, zucchini, cucumbers, and carrots.



Oh, and here is a cute photo I snapped of Einstein investigating the peas.



- Megan