The heaven, even the heavens, are the Lord’s: but the earth hath he given to the children of men,” (Psalms 115:16).
It is not uncommon to find dirt under my nails (or paint specks on my fingers). It’s not that I don’t wear gloves in the garden—though not always—but the tips of them are all worn through by the end of the summer. I don’t really mind, I love dirt. It is full of life—not just crawly things and decayed matter, but there is something magical that a seed can become so much more when placed into a bed of rich soil where the sun shines and water seeps.
My favorite part of harvest is the tangible evidence that a promise was fulfilled. DH planted about 5 small potatoes in the area where my pussy willow was, as an experiment to see how they’d grow in that location. He cut each up so that every planting had just one eye. This last week we dug them and there were 40-50 pounds. They are tender and already we’ve had green bean (from the garden) and potato salad and yesterday we had a rich veggie stew where the potatoes, onions, cabbage, dried tomatoes, and beans came from the garden. (I added mushrooms, carrots and in each bowl, a slice of cheese). From tiny seeds, pieces of a potato or bulbs we receive in return more than 10 fold. (BTW, don’t tell my Idaho people that these potatoes are red.)
But that’s how the promises of God work.
Someone once pointed out that when we work in a garden, we come to know God in ways that are elusive to those who don’t.
“The Lord hath been mindful of us: he will bless us. . . He will bless them that fear the Lord, both small and great. The Lord shall increase you more and more, you and your children,” Psalms 115:12-14).