Walking in the Garden

    I've finished all the planting for the moment.  I've laid all the mulch for now.  I've dealt with sprinkler issues and arranged to have the rock ring in the front replaced with crushed granite.  I'm waiting to hear back from Contra Costa County's "Lawn to Garden Rebate Program" about replacing the one area of my yard that is still grass (well, dead grass).  At this point, then, all there is to do is maintenance: checking on the new plants to make sure they are not needing more or less water or just a little attention, looking for those weeds that are persistent and are trying to push through my weed barriers, trimming the trees a bit so they don't make walking on the path difficult. I add seeds to the bird feeders, I clean and refill the hummingbird feeder. I still get up every morning early and walk through the garden as I do this maintenance. I do the same in the afternoon when it is cool enough and often in the evening as well.

    Today I found myself thinking of these verses from Genesis 2:8-9 "During that day's cool evening breeze, they heard the sound of God walking in the garden... God called to the man and said to him, "Where are you?" 

    There is something incredible about walking among the plants (and animals) in the gardens that one has planted. I check in with each new plant that has not established itself yet, looking at its leaves, checking on its size and on the ground around it to see if it is settling in.  I talk to the plants, encouraging them, asking them if there is anything else they are needing. I talk to the birds and scold the squirrels trying to eat my tomatoes.  I love doing this.  It brings me a sense of calm, but also a strong feeling of wonder.  They are each their own self, which means that I ultimately do not control if they thrive or wither.  A friend passed on plants to me that he had propagated from his own yard, some of which have established and are thriving, a few that are struggling that I'm nurturing and hope will pull through, and some which died almost before I got them into the ground. There was nothing I could do about those plants. They weren't happy with having been moved from the cooler, closer-to-the-bay climate to the hot, smokey, dry summer of the Bay Area east of the Oakland hills.  Still, even those that have died are part of the wonder for me.  What likes my yard?  What seems happy to establish here?  What doesn't like it and just won't thrive here no matter what I do?  Who is each plant as the individual it is, even within its own species?  What does it need?  

    And again, I found myself thinking about this passage from Genesis.  In this story, God planted a garden, created animals and people, but once they were created, God no longer had control over how they would do or what they would do. They were creations, not puppets, each with its own thoughts and feelings and choices. The story of Adam and Eve is a story of making choices that were other than what God wanted. Despite this, God still chose relationship with them: they were part of God's garden, an important part, and even when they made choices God didn't like, God still nurtured and planted them where they would best thrive: no longer in that garden, but in the greater world.  That is the risk in creating (or planting, in the gardener's world) beings that are other, that are separate, that are themselves.  

    I found myself wondering if God also had that feeling of awe and wonder as God's creations made their own choices, even when they chose not to thrive well in the garden into which God placed them.  Does God delight in us just as we delight in the plants we put in our own gardens? I can't imagine God feels otherwise... when you create a garden: when you plan, when you dig, plant and nurture their lives, when you spend time and energy pulling the weeds that would hurt or kill the the plants you want, and when you touch the ground and plants and place them into the ground, deciding where they should go, it is automatic and normal to form attachments to those plants, to those beings. 

    And so, part of my delight in walking through my own garden is to walk with the God who delights in God's own gardens as well.  We are a part of those, an important part.  And our own gardens are joint efforts, not only with the plants and birds, but also with the God who created each and every plant, animal and person.  

    I return to work tomorrow.  But I have committed to walking in my garden each day before leaving for work.  It centers me, it brings me joy, it connects me with all life, and it connects me with God.