Seeds
By Richard Burke
Late March, like clockwork, is the start of gardening, in earnest. Most years in the past 20, I have planted seeds indoors to sprout and develop before they can be transplanted into the garden in May-June.
The process is a constant source of wonder, and certainly a nod to God’s hand in all of this. At every step, it’s an act of grace, involving planning, seed and soil choice, planting to a variety of depths and considering varied germination times. It encourages patience and rewards nurturing.
And the results are sources of enjoyment for several months. This year, seeding is also providing a productive activity while we generally stay parked at home during the pandemic restrictions.
Actually, gardening is a year-round pursuit. Even during a long winter, thoughts and discussions centre on new beds and plants, replacing trees and shrubs and what perennials and annuals in a number of seed catalogues are worth trying. When the weather is right, finishing the interior of a new greenhouse advances the cause. Watching the snow melt offers the chance to visualize what can be planted in the soil beneath. A local arborist came in mid-winter to remove three mature columnar aspens that had succumbed to bronze leaf disease. And, during a couple of warm days last autumn, a flagstone garden path was laid.
Starting seeds this year became more urgent than usual because of restrictions at
our favourite nursery, brought on by the COVID-19 guidelines to minimize social contact. They may not remember our names, but our frequent presence there brings an acknowledgement, as it did in February when we dropped in to inquire about ordering plants. Although the nursery is closed for a time, they are planning to take orders over the phone or by email and deliver orders to your car in the parking lot. Whew!
Now past the first day of spring, gearing up for gardening takes on heightened sense of excitement. A few times a day, the greenhouse beckons for me to check on seedling progress. Sprouts from several zinnia varieties, dianthus and sweet William, calendula, lupin, godetia and lettuce-spinach-kale seeds sprinkled on a flat bring smiles and reports back to the house about the latest to push through the soil.
There’s no shortage of documentation about the connection between gardening and faith. For example, the Sisters of St. Joseph of Orange, California, near Disneyland in Anaheim, live their passion for gardening and see it as a growth of faith. Says Sister Mary Rogers, “When we’re digging into the soil, and it’s moist and wet, working with creation in your hands, it’s impossible not to see God.”
And Sister Mary Beth Ingham observes, “The first part of gardening involves faith. We work the soil, plant the seeds, water the land and believe that something beautiful will come. You’re not able to see what you’re growing, but you’re optimistic that something is coming. Faith is like that. We pray to God, ask him to work in our lives, and the fruit comes later.”
He also brings the sunshine to melt the snow, warm the earth and provide the fuel for plants’ photosynthesis.
Thank God.
The process is a constant source of wonder, and certainly a nod to God’s hand in all of this. At every step, it’s an act of grace, involving planning, seed and soil choice, planting to a variety of depths and considering varied germination times. It encourages patience and rewards nurturing.
And the results are sources of enjoyment for several months. This year, seeding is also providing a productive activity while we generally stay parked at home during the pandemic restrictions.
Actually, gardening is a year-round pursuit. Even during a long winter, thoughts and discussions centre on new beds and plants, replacing trees and shrubs and what perennials and annuals in a number of seed catalogues are worth trying. When the weather is right, finishing the interior of a new greenhouse advances the cause. Watching the snow melt offers the chance to visualize what can be planted in the soil beneath. A local arborist came in mid-winter to remove three mature columnar aspens that had succumbed to bronze leaf disease. And, during a couple of warm days last autumn, a flagstone garden path was laid.
Starting seeds this year became more urgent than usual because of restrictions at
our favourite nursery, brought on by the COVID-19 guidelines to minimize social contact. They may not remember our names, but our frequent presence there brings an acknowledgement, as it did in February when we dropped in to inquire about ordering plants. Although the nursery is closed for a time, they are planning to take orders over the phone or by email and deliver orders to your car in the parking lot. Whew!
Now past the first day of spring, gearing up for gardening takes on heightened sense of excitement. A few times a day, the greenhouse beckons for me to check on seedling progress. Sprouts from several zinnia varieties, dianthus and sweet William, calendula, lupin, godetia and lettuce-spinach-kale seeds sprinkled on a flat bring smiles and reports back to the house about the latest to push through the soil.
There’s no shortage of documentation about the connection between gardening and faith. For example, the Sisters of St. Joseph of Orange, California, near Disneyland in Anaheim, live their passion for gardening and see it as a growth of faith. Says Sister Mary Rogers, “When we’re digging into the soil, and it’s moist and wet, working with creation in your hands, it’s impossible not to see God.”
And Sister Mary Beth Ingham observes, “The first part of gardening involves faith. We work the soil, plant the seeds, water the land and believe that something beautiful will come. You’re not able to see what you’re growing, but you’re optimistic that something is coming. Faith is like that. We pray to God, ask him to work in our lives, and the fruit comes later.”
He also brings the sunshine to melt the snow, warm the earth and provide the fuel for plants’ photosynthesis.
Thank God.