My Dad has planted a garden his entire life. As a boy he gained valuable farm skills at his father's side. Today, his gardens are the most productive, green, lush, weed free gardens that you can imagine. No you can't possibly imagine. The pumpkin vines are climbing up trees. The tomato bushes fill buckets after buckets after buckets. The beans on his bean bushes multiply exponentially every time you pick them. The cucumbers, the squash, the zucchini, the peppers look like pictures in magazines. His melons fill wheelbarrows daily all September. His corn sweetly melts in your mouth. And that is only the beginning. Weeds are afraid to grow in his garden. The soil is so soft and loamy you don't even need a shovel to plant. His many neighbors receive the fruits of his labors for weeks in July, August and September.He has generously come to my home for over 21 years to help till our soil and plant corn. Each year he comes out on his tractor, lifts a child up on the seat and carefully tills out a quarter acre of land making the soil ready for planting. His kind efforts to help me succeed have helped me to be a successful gardener.
A few weeks ago I realized he needed help planting melons and I treasured the experience we shared that day. We gathered the seeds from glass jars in the basement, put them in labeled plastic bags and walked to the back of his acre lot. He handed me the knife and I cut around a vinegar jug to create the right sized circle in the black plastic. I put my finger in the soft soil to make four holes. He shook a few seeds in my hand and I dropped the seeds down the hole then covered and watered them. Then we went to the next hole and did the same. It started to rain. As the light sprinkle began, we kept going without a word about the rain. The rain came down harder. We moved to the next hole. He poured the seeds in my hand, I put them in the holes I poked and watered. It rained even harder as we progressed down the 75 feet of plastic. "Would you like me to get you a coat?" Dad asked. I declined. It continued to rain as we planted the honey dew, orange flesh, crenshaw, and watermelon until every hole had been planted, covered, watered and a vinegar jug put over the top. He said, "Thanks Diane, you can go in now." I said, "Looks like we need to clean up." There were a couple of dozen milk jugs and miscellaneous garbage scattered, and as I gathered, he said, "Oh lets plant the beans!" I echoed, "Lets plant the beans!" and he hoed down two double rows and I planted the pink beans. We covered those up, and we walked up to the house. Not one word was said about the rain, or quitting.
I love that! Can I tell you how I love that! I love that there was no complaining or withdrawing. My Dad was there to plant the melons. And we planted the melons. And if there is more that needs doing, we will do that. That capacity spills over into other areas of his life just like the vines in his garden that grow and reach beyond their allotted space. He will do what he sets out to do. It isn't just a gardening skill, it is the capacity to act, work, and move forward. It is his faith in God. That is the heritage I have seen all my life. Through the diligent planting of seeds in the ground and nurturing the plants that produce fruit, I see the law of the harvest, I see him making his corner of the earth better and inspiring the people around him. I see the blessings, like the vines heaving beyond their bounds all around. I call it the green Midas touch. Instead of gold, it turns to life. I see God and man working miracles.
