I used to spend day and night out there with bucket and trowel in hand walking the triangle between garden, greenhouse and compost pit until I nearly wore a path in the grass. Only when night settled did I succumb to the darkness and head inside at a reluctant pace.
It wasn’t the greenhouse structure itself I found so enticing – it was the wonderful rich smell of moist earth, compost, and life in its beginning stages as I nurtured fragile seedlings and cherished memories.
I know it’s strange to be thinking about a greenhouse in December (unless you’re into growing poinsettias), but several months ago I wrote about how my year is divided into two seasons; gardening and holidays! It’s true!
Honestly – I know me, and it’s the same story each year. Even before I'm through picking Christmas ham out of my teeth, I feel that familiar pull to get back in the dirt. Back on my knees in the garden. Back to the essence of who I am; just a gal who grew up in the mountains with animals, a barn and small-town ways who still needs time on her knees digging in the dirt to feel renewed and alive.
Life pulls, tugs, demands and expects. It’s important to find that one thing we can plug into that revives us to our full self…(if only those little recharging mats for your hand-held gadgets came in “frazzled-mom” size…hmmm…).
So this year, it’s more of a feeling that tops my Christmas list. It’s that reconnection with peace, where I feel the sun on my back and the soil between my fingers (almost year-round in my climate). It’s the song of my corner fountain and the busy little finches who share my space. It’s remembering when the kids were young and how we started our entire vegetable garden from the greenhouse; the early-morning scouting through furrows in bare feet and Spiderman pajamas…no, not me – my son! It’s remembering his big brown eyes looking through a tiny pair of glasses perched on his nose when he discovered the masses of zucchini hidden beneath giant leaves, and my daughter’s honey-colored ringlets framing her sleepy face as she followed big brother through swaying corn stalks.
It all began in the greenhouse, the wonder of simple pleasures – the memories still cherished.
Thank you for the simple things our hearts seem to hold on to with the tightest embrace. Let us realize and enjoy the sweetness in those simple moments this season, and may we give thanks to you for each one. Amen.