Monday, July 17, 2017

“Sometimes since I’ve been in the garden I’ve looked up through the trees at the sky and I have had a strange feeling of being happy as if something was pushing and drawing in my chest and making me breathe fast. Magic is always pushing and drawing and making things out of nothing. Everything is made out of magic, leaves and trees, flowers and birds, badgers and foxes and squirrels and people. So it must be all around us. In this garden – in all the places.”

~ Frances Hodgson Burnett, The Secret Garden

I come gently to the day from a dream where I am starting next year’s garden. In that dream place I’m raking soil, harvesting early lettuce, putting my six-foot tall tomato cages in place, and chatting ever-so briefly with a couple of other gardeners. Bliss.

Awake, I tell myself I need to sketch out the plan I was using in the dream so I have it when it’s time to start the garden anew next spring. I grab my iPad, make a quick sketch in Evernote, and send it to the printer. Later, I’ll tuck it in to my seed box where promise rests.

Today, I need to harvest. The Swiss chard and kale is sorely in need of picking. There will be lots to freeze today as well as enjoy fresh. Yesterday I pulled out the rest of the radishes that are too woody to eat, as well as some Hakurei turnips that had gone mushy in the ground. I harvested the first cucumber and a few sweet little sunburst squash. Summer eating is about to shift into a new phase as the cukes start coming and the tomatoes begin ripening (soon, very soon).

A couple of appointments in town, garden work, kitchen work, and the day will be full. The the smoke is thick from the forest fires so, while I’d like to spend as much time as possible outdoors, I’ll limit it.

And on we go.


I’m a writer, reader, and creative. I thought by now I’d have things figured out, but I keep coming up with more questions. I think that’s okay. I’m here most mornings pondering ordinary things and the thin places where faith intersects.
  1. I cannot imagine what that smoke must be like where you are. We now have it here!

    1. It’s bad, Ruth. I was outside just long enough to harvest some kale and Swiss chard, and put some water on the garden, and felt a bit nauseous. Just awful what is happening in our province right now.

Leave a Reply

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.