Meditate on it

Every time I set out seedlings, I feel sorry for the weak ones.  I long to be a Darwinian-minded spirit who has no trouble with "survival of the fittest," quickly tossing aside the stragglers, the weak-necked, the limp.  But instead, I find a spot in the corner for them.  I tuck them in and wish them well. Whether right or wrong, I've always had this sensitivity.  Sometimes I hope it's a sign of compassion for the weak.  Other times, it feels like indecisiveness, a wishy-washy inability to make "hard" decisions. I have this same problem with the semi-invasive plants.  Why pull the mint so ruthlessly?  They make great tabolui, tea, and salads--who doesn't love mint?  But mint is a bully my mind argues back.  And why remove every last clump of the sedum--nothing else grows so well in the crooks of rocks.  So, I let a few stay... I wouldn't have made the cut with Joshua conquering the Promised Land---there would have been far too many straggl

Driving down Patton yesterday, I saw John 4:34 on a license plate.  David noticed it first, then looked it up out of curiosity: Jesus said to them, “My food is to do the will of him who sent me and to accomplish his work." -John 4:34 Intrigued, I caught a glimpse of an older man with a ball cap before the car pulled ahead and was gone.  Nice, I thought. Common man.  Straightforward verse.  I'm typically not a fan of Christianease and bumper stickers, but I liked his choice. I like the plate because it shines a light on Jesus and his mission.  And it speaks of our role, our mission too. First line of the Westminster Catechism: What is the chief end of man? To glorify God and fully enjoy him forever.

One goal of my 2016 garden is to blur the boundaries between the flower garden and the vegetable garden.  Thus, I've planted broccoli starts next to the snapdragons and bachelors buttons.  But, I'm finding it's easier to work vegetables into flowers than flowers into vegetable spaces.  Vegetables like beans and tomatoes beg for rows--its seems an artistic shame to sacrifice flowers to such a linear approach.  They end up feeling like an add-on, an afterthought. Yes, I know marigolds deter insects, but such a calculating relationship seems a disgrace to both ends.  I'm prejudice against marigolds for exactly this season--they are always approached very practically, planted sequentially along the rows.  So sad.  Last summer when walking, I saw a majestic sweep of marigolds in a huge bed, all by themselves.  That's the way they meant to be---beautiful in their own right. In contrast, the vegetables sneak into the flower beds quite nicely--broccoli is so obvious