A TRIBUTE

The evenings are getting shorter. At 8:30 last night the realization of summer's wane floated over me with the evening breeze. It was a melancholy feeling that left me with a reluctance that I didn't want the gardening to be over, that in spite of the hard work, sore knees and back, I was going to miss the peace and contentment and the sense of accomplishment that growing our food gives me. With the clank of the latch, catching when it closes, the vintage gate that old Sol hangs on, provides me with protection from the outside world and all the while teaching me the patience, tolerance, compassion and ability to leave the world, even if it is just my world, a little better. Keeping a garden teaches us to be kinder to the earth. Nourish it, and it will in turn, nourish us.
I have learned, to give is to receive.

We buy seed, work and water the ground and plant. But we don't often think of the miracle that God has given us when the first sprout of seedlings stretches through the soil. The Bible speaks of planting and sowing and reaping, and while a good share of this is metaphor, I would like to think it is also a literal command. To feed our body, keeping this miracle in our heart, is to feed our soul. Whether we farm on a large scale or garden in containers, the process is the same. A seed is planted and a sprout is formed and grows. Our tables are blessed and bountiful.
I am thankful.

There are a few green beans left to mature, cucumbers are still producing, tomatoes are ripening, my zucchini, while grumbled with a slow start, has produced a respectable crop and continues to shovel fruit at us at an astounding rate.

The bully of the garden has had his tendrils clipped but didn't seem to mind the pruning. The squash he is growing are beautiful.

There is still canning and preserving to be done, and the faint feelings that indicate summer is changing, will soon give way to crisper days and cool nights. I am reminded that the preservation of food gives way to the cooking and baking of what has been put up.
These are the gifts of the garden and it's only expectation is for us to receive it.
I am greatful.