June

June is a special time in the garden. It is not time to plant or time to harvest. The summer plants have established themselves; the fence is secure; the sweet peas are past their prime. I go out to the garden without tools and return without ripe fruit. But I do not return empty-handed. There is a magic in the slowness of June in the garden.

I am watching my plants grow. Daily I tuck the growing tomato branches inside the cage, pick a few weeds that have burst through the barrier cloth, check the moisture of the soil, and water if needed. Mostly, I talk to the plants. Yes, I am that crazy old lady that talks to her plants.

Science has confirmed that talking to your plants actually encourages them to grow. I used to think that was just because we were expelling carbon dioxide, which the plants like to take in, but then I learned plants like harmonic music as well. Who knew plants could hear. It turns out that trees, and probably most plants, make thousands of decisions throughout their lives, the complexities of which rival human decision making. There is even a movement to declare trees as sentient beings. It is difficult for me to see my pepper plants are sentient beings, but they are certainly living things.

And all living things thrive on encouragement, praise, and support. “Look at those new leaves, cucumber! Good job!” “Let me lift your branch up for you, sweet tomato. That fruit will get heavy!” “That little pepper is getting so big! Way to go!”

Therefore encourage one another, and build up each other, as indeed you are doing… And we urge you, beloved, to admonish the idlers, encourage the fainthearted, help the weak, be patient with all of them. I Thessalonians 5:11,14.

That is really all I can do right now – encourage my plants. These plants will bear fruit when it is their time to bear fruit; that fruit will ripen when it ripens. Since I have no control over those things, I choose to enjoy, savor even, this time of tranquility.

I can feel the morning sun on my face and feel the breeze cooling my neck. When I lift the tomato branches, their aroma fills my nose to the point I can taste it. When I pull a weed, soft soil brings up the scents of the earth; an earthworm scoots for cover. As I stand and face the sky, I take a deep breath and feel connected to all of God’s creation.

The earth is the Lord’s and all that is in it, the world and those that live in it. Psalm 24:1.

With the industrial revolution, the move to cities, electricity and cars, we have become an increasing indoor people. Unless we go to a farmer’s market, we are several steps removed from the source of our food. We no longer walk to work; few of us work outside or play outside. Culturally, we have lost our connection to the earth, but there is grass-roots effort to rectify that (pun intended).

For me, the garden, and specifically, the garden in June, helps me reestablish that connection.

In June, I can just go out and be in the garden. While I talk to my plants, they sometimes seem to talk to me, telling me about God and His creation, teaching me what they have learned over millennia. Often I just stand or sit with them.

Be still and know that I am God! I am exalted among the nations; I am exalted in the earth. Psalm 46:10.

I encourage you to go outside today. Look for a flower in bloom or a weed overcoming its concrete prison. Sit under a tree or admire its leaves. Breath in the scent of earth or cut grass or roses. Feel the sun and the breeze and the blades of some petal nearby. The earth exalts God. Let’s take a moment today to join in that exultation.

Betsy