I Live in the Garden of Eden

The following post was written earlier in the season.

The rumble of thunder came from the southwest, and the weather channel verified that a prairie thunderstorm was within an hour of Columbia. I slipped on my garden shoes and went out to set the four eggplant plants fresh from the farmer’s market. On the way back after the setting I took out my pocketknife and cut three large heads of broccoli for Barbara to put into the freezer.

Four kinds of lettuce and two varieties of spinach have been producing crisp salads for several weeks, with some to share with neighbors. Asparagus was first to arrive at the table, then rhubarb and radishes. Strawberries are picked daily. Raspberries and blackberries have lost their blossoms and are plumping for harvest. Potatoes are in bloom. Sugar snap peas mix with broccoli and a bit of meat for a stir-fry. Cabbage is heading, and tomatoes are galf ball size. Green beans are climbing their pole trellis. Two trees are so laden with apples that supports will need to be added under some limbs. Melons, cucumbers and squash are heading for each other in the usual space-war they have in my small garden. Onions, scallions and garlic add their scent to the miraculous mix of mealtime medley. Add to that a large array of annual and perennial flowers, shrubs and plants, and a fair selection of birds, including our favorites, two house wrens, and I do feel that I have a right to the claim that I live in the Garden of Eden.

I maintain that Good intends for us to live in a garden – to grow, tend and enjoy one. It is sad to note that so many folkds deny themselves of that heritage and right and allow others to have that pleasure on their behalf. As I travel I see home and home where there is no garden in a sunlit space crying out for productivity.

My garden is a combination of the “square-foot garden,” the raised garden, and the composting garden. Our soil is heavy gumbo, requiring large amounts of compost (from clippings and leaves) and some horse manure from a nearby stable. I even clamim some clippings and leaves from nearby neighbors who set them out for trash pickup. I seldom pick up a hoe, mulching everything down with clippings, straw or compost. Little fertilizer is needed with fertile soil. Tomato worms are picked off by hand, and organic chemicals control cabbage loopers.

Many benefits are mine because of our garden. The first is spiritual. To co-create with God is a rich blessing. I have never lost the excitement of seeing a bean plant burst through the soil. There is a deep mystery as to how the pole bean plant discovers and reaches for the trellis. Wes Jackson says that the genetic information stored in that bean seed, if it were typed out on paper, would fill a huge room.

The second benefit is emotional. Although I am retired my volunteer work on international boards causes me to spend day after day in “heavy” meetings, and I leave emotionally spent. But I go back home to my garden and there the world comes back into perspective. There is something about being surrounded by the creative work of God that is reassuring, and that announces to my soul that all is well in the world.

There are also physical benefits. Anyone can garden, even it if it is just a flowerpot. Nursing homes are beginning to enable residents to have small garden plots on their own. Pharmacies do not sell garden seeds, for they know that the more people garden the less medication they will need.

Other benefits include the feeling of self-satisfaction one has by producing for oneself. Gardening is environmentally helpful as energy is not needed to ship food long distances. Food is fresh and one knows what chemicals have been used. Gardening is a neighborly thing to do. When we are gone our neighbors harvest our produce for their own use.

A soft rain is now falling. My eggplants have been baptized by God herself, and I live in the Garden of Eden.