A start-up tomato plant has sprouted up amongst the cantaloupe, an unintended planting from last year’s harvest. When a vegetable grows unbidden in the wrong part of the garden, does that make it a weed? I’m not sure. I think I’ll let the tomato grow in its place among the melons. It will be fun seeing what it produces.
I pull dirt up around the corn plants. Like most members of the grass family, corn grows extra root sets when more soil is pulled around it. The deeper soil and extra roots help the plant stay healthy during summer drought, and give it strength during summer wind storms.
The same hoe that uprooted weeds and thinned corn plants, last week, is pulling precious soil around roots, this week. Should the corn be frightened? Should it fear the hoe? Does the corn understand that, although last week’s carnage was painful, it was also necessary for life and health? Do the corn plants realize that this week the hoe brings only life and plenty with no pain or death?
I know. It’s silly to think of corn plants experiencing emotion or thought. Still, I ponder these things as I work…
The garden is thirsty. It needs water.
I have the means of providing life-sustaining water. Yet, I wait.
No water this morning, or the fresh-pulled weeds will revive, sink new roots into fresh turned soil, thrive, and choke out the vegetables. Water will come in the evening, after the pulled weeds have had a full day of drying in the hot sun to ensure their demise.
How many times has my thirsty soul cried out for living water, while the master gardener waited for weeds to die? How many times have I asked God to relieve pain or sorrow, not realizing the sinful attitudes He was uprooting and killing in the process?