Marriage and Divorce
When I finally grow up I want to be more like Skyepuppy because she has an amazing ability to consistently discover interesting stories to blog about. I often lie in wait and poach these stories from her site... bring them back here... and write about them.
What's she gonna do... fire me?
Anyway, in my latest raid I noticed the Pupster had found this fascinating story about marriage and divorce. The article is here: http://www.wnd.com/news/article.asp?ARTICLE_ID=51386 and is a must-read.
I never married and have pretty much given up on the idea. Still, my house is big enough for two and any woman who saw my garden might be tempted to try putting up with me.
I always wanted a garden because I love to eat. My first winter here found me looking out my back window at that rectangle of land that would be my garden, imagining how the vegetables would taste.
April finally came and I planted my spring crop, but there was a problem. The garden was full of thistle seeds. Needless to say, by the end of May my hands had been stuck a thousand times as I pulled thistles, not allowing any to go to seed... thus producing a thistleless future.
With my summer crops came a new and bigger problem as the heavy rains of 2003 revealed that my garden drained poorly and I nearly lost all my tomatoes. I thought about giving up, but I read about how to plant my tomatoes in wide, raised beds... and though it's a lot of work, my tomatoes now thrive.
In the last four years I've learned how to fertilize the soil and protect the plants from rabbits, but something tells me that when I'm eighty years old I'll still be learning about that little rectangle of land as new problems come and are solved.
This time of year on my way to work I notice other gardens. Sometimes their corn looks taller or maybe their tomato plants look healthier, but I know every garden comes with its own set of problems. And it's funny, when people offer to bring me vegetables from their garden before mine are ready, I honestly don't want them. There is just something about the satisfaction of growing your own that makes it worth the wait... that makes it taste sweeter.
I looked out my back window this morning as I sipped my coffee, and though I certainly didn't see perfection, the corn is high and producing nicely. The tomatoes have a bit of blight, but Ill work on that next year. I have this year's garlic braided and hanging in my kitchen, and my fall peas hold a great deal of promise as they begin peeking through the soil.
I could have spent years looking for the perfect piece of land, the perfect kind of soil... but I don't think perfection is out there. The land is somehow less significant than the work, and the garden you make from it. And with time an amazing bond forms between you and that little rectangle of land that God entrusted to you... as you bathe in the satisfaction of knowing that you took it and grew a garden... and made it the best it could be.