“While the earth remaineth, seedtime and harvest, and cold and heat, and summer and winter, and day and night shall not cease.” (Genesis 8:22)
The First Year in the First-Time Gardener’s Garden
My garden is nothing fancy, just a thin strip between a chain-link fence line and a retaining wall that was difficult to mow. The soil is hard clay, amended only slightly by some dig-and-drop composting last fall and winter. I truly didn’t know anything about gardening (and still know very little), so rather than trying to follow conflicting advice or spending a fortune on gardening materials, I went with a minimalist approach. I started from seed, wrapped in damp paper towels in ziploc bags, which transplanted to egg cartons after germination. I didn’t know the first thing about garden tasks like mulching or pruning, so I just figured I would add chores and materials as the need arose.
I made so many mistakes, right from the start. I was afraid a frost would kill anything I planted, so I transplanted my lettuce seedlings way too late. They were terribly root-bound in their little egg cartons and took a while to get established in the ground. Nevertheless, they figured it out and started to grow. I direct-seeded some lettuce in a different section, but a heavy rain that evening washed most of the little seeds away. Still, we enjoyed a bounty of lettuce at the end of spring and discovered a new appreciation for salads when I had to harvest them all at once when a heat wave caused them all to begin to bolt.
Aside from some herbs (parsley and basil, two favorites of mine), I mainly planted a few varieties of tomatoes, bell peppers, and hot peppers, with several plants each. I initially feared I would not get any fruit when I learned that they all have similar needs and were not likely to thrive in our clay soil. Now, as the flowers burst forth and fruit sets, I am hoping that I can eat or preserve the entire bounty if it all comes in in a large wave (if it all makes it to harvest). At least any extras can be shared with our friends and neighbors!
With just a few months of gardening experience now under my belt, I’m shocked by how little I knew about how my food grows. It has been incredibly humbling. Furthermore, I have been surprised by how much the life of the garden has mirrored the life of the church, though I guess it should not have been a shock considering all the times that gardens appear in Scripture. Truly, God is the heavenly gardener!
The Liturgical Year in the Garden
When I became an Anglican Catholic a few years ago, the liturgical calendar was new to me. I felt like I could barely keep straight which season it was, let alone appreciate the “bigger picture.” I still don’t think I can fully grasp the big picture, but I noticed too many parallels to ignore when I began planning my garden last winter.
Advent: A Season of Anticipation
At the start of the liturgical year (in Advent), I was beginning to plan my garden. I figured out which seeds I wanted to plant and the materials I thought I would need. I pulled out the weeds that had taken over the garden beds and asked my husband to help me add organic material to the heavy clay soil in the garden with some dig-and-drop composting. It was harder work than I expected, and I realized that I was woefully unprepared for the coming task. However, even as the days got shorter and colder, I could feel myself eagerly and excitedly anticipating the coming summer.
Similarly, the season of Advent in the Church is a time of penitent preparation and anticipation for the coming of Christ, both in his incarnation two thousand years ago and in his second coming. Unlike the hustle and bustle of the chaotic Christmas shopping season the world pushes us into, Advent calls us to silence and peace so that we might hear that still, small voice. Quietly, we pull out the weeds of sin and vice. We amend the soil of our hearts with prayer and fasting to make room for the coming King. We read the prophesies and eagerly anticipate the joy of Christmas morning.
Christmastide & Epiphanytide: A Season of Celebration and Quiet Growth
I’ll be honest, I didn’t do much in our garden this past Christmastide and Epiphanytide. A once-in-a-generation snowstorm blanketed the ground on the Feast of the Epiphany and kept it covered for weeks. Warm and cozy inside, our family celebrated all twelve days of Christmas and the glow of Christmastide continued to blanket our home until we reluctantly retired our decorations on February 2 when Candlemas arrived.
Little did I know, but that snow was quietly nurturing my future garden. Apparently snow acts as a mild, slow-release fertilizer, adding nitrogen to the soil, and as a blanket, protecting the delicate ecosystems in the soil from harsh winds and extreme temperature fluctuations. While it looked like nothing was happening out there and it felt like it was too early to think about my future garden, the work had already begun.
It reminds me of how the Lord works when he arrived in my life as an adult. After an extended season away from the Church while I was in college, God began quietly working on my heart, preparing it, without me even realizing He was there. In that season, He had shielded me from the worst of the things that could have further separated me from Him, protecting that delicate seed of faith that lay dormant in my heart. He had secretly fertilized that seed with a love of the Good and the Beautiful, which would eventually lead me back to loving the Truth himself. While I couldn’t see what He was doing then, I can now see some of the fruit He was preparing for me.
Lent: A Season of Preparation
Lent arrives between early February and early March each year, right at the time when the first seeds begin to germinate inside. Just as I’m always surprised by the sudden intensity that arrives on Ash Wednesday, I was taken off guard by the amount of work that those little seeds required.
It was careful, tedious work to ensure they stayed properly moist, warm, and received enough light after they were painstakingly moved from the paper towels in which they germinated into the egg cartons where they would continue to grow. Even though I knew the seeds wanted to grow, I quickly learned that they could not survive much neglect. Furthermore, I discovered that missing the time when I regularly tended to the seedlings meant that I was more likely to get off track and forget even more.
I find that my prayer life is similar. A habit of regular prayer, like the Daily Offices of Morning and Evening Prayer, is something that cannot be neglected and expected to run on its own. It is a daily offering to God that must be carefully tended to, or else it will wilt from aridity. Once even a single prayer office is missed, I have found that it’s much easier to fall out of the habit. Distraction, and worse, sin, can more easily slip into its place and choke out the fragile seedlings of the Christian life of prayer. It is already difficult to pray without ceasing, but how much more so once we have ceased!
As I worked to prepare the garden beds, pulling out even more weeds, I found dirt under my fingernails constantly, dirt that seemed nearly impossible to entirely scrub off. In a similar way, as I work to root out habitual sin, I become increasingly aware of the vices I am particularly inclined to. Something stronger than soap and water is needed here. I find myself in grateful awe of the grace that the Lord provides His Church through the sacraments.
Eastertide: A Season of New Life
Easter Sunday arrives, and we celebrate the empty tomb with shouts of “Alleluia!” as spring seems to burst forth. The second verse of “‘Welcome happy morning!’ age to age shall say” (one of the Easter hymns we sing) captures the feeling of the arrival of spring:
Earth her joy confesses, clothing her for spring
All fresh gifts returned with her returning King
Bloom in ev’ry meadow, leaves on ev’ry bough
Speak his sorrow ended, hail his triumph now.
After the darkness of the 40 days of Lent, and particularly after the darkness of Good Friday, the delights of the joyful Easter hymns, pastel floral dresses, and decadent feasts are that much sweeter. The Church’s wisdom in preceding feasts with a fast never fails to amaze me!
Similarly, the spring garden seems to be bursting with life, after its long slumber under winter’s blanket of snow. Is there anything more beautiful than the first buds of spring? Since I had not planted a winter garden, with spring came our first tastes of garden-fresh produce. Who knew that lettuce could taste so good? Since this was my first garden, I didn’t plant many cool-season plants, so I didn’t fully appreciate the beauty of spring, but I am looking forward to a bountiful Easter harvest next year!
As Eastertide continues, the weather warms, the day length increases, and the chance of frost decreases. More flowers bloom and the plants go from growing at a snail’s pace to shooting up several inches overnight! We planted the lettuce in the garden early in Eastertide, which ended up being too late, but it still flourished with the rainy spring weather before a heatwave arrived around the Feast of the Ascension.
We also finally transplanted the tomatoes and peppers into their garden home the week before the Ascension. It felt like an act of surrender and trust to take those plants I had carefully nurtured inside for months and set them out to be at the mercy of the elements. Even after hardening them off, they seemed so small and weak when they first went into the ground. Spoiler alert: they loved their new homes and (as of late July) have already borne fruit.
I wonder if that’s how Jesus felt when He left his disciples behind, both on Good Friday and forty days after the Resurrection when He ascended. Certainly, they had learned a lot while following Him throughout His earthly ministry. Sending them out two by two, without purse or bag or shoes, must have been a certain hardening off as they preached in potentially hostile cities without Him right there to help. At the Last Supper, in Luke 22:35-37, Christ reminds them of the success of this earlier mission, then tells them that now, not only ought they take their purse and bag, but also that they should sell their cloak to buy a sword if they do not have one. The hardening off was done. It was time for them to face the hostile world. This was especially the case after the Ascension when we see them begin their ministry with newly strengthened faith after witnessing Christ’s resurrection, aided by the power of the Holy Ghost. We still reap the fruits of their ministry today through the apostolic Church!
A New Appreciation for Rogation Days
The Anglican Catholic church, along with other traditional churches in the West, observes Rogation Days on the Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday before the Feast of the Ascension. These three days are historically days of fasting and prayer for a fruitful season.
In previous years, I admit that I scarcely took notice of these days, aside from a bit of confusion about the readings and prayers that suddenly seemed “off topic” for the season – but I promptly forgot as soon as my focus shifted to Ascension Day. This year, however, the Rogation Days fell the week after I transplanted my tomatoes and peppers. I found myself praying the collect in earnest!
Almighty God, Lord of heaven and earth;
We beseech thee to pour forth thy blessing upon this land,
and to give us a fruitful season;
that we constantly receiving thy bounty,
may evermore give thanks unto thee in thy holy Church;
through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.
In 21st century America, praying for a fruitful season may seem quaint to anyone who isn’t a farmer. We have food everywhere now. Sure, there’s the grocery store and the farmer’s market where you still see whole produce, looking like what you might expect to harvest from a garden. But there’s also vending machines, convenience stores, and drive-thru fast food where the food is so far removed from its original form it’s easy to forget how much we rely on God to provide what’s needed for a good harvest.
Once I planted my own little garden, I suddenly had a new appreciation for how much God is in control of my harvest. Of course, my garden is just a little supplemental kitchen garden, not a homestead that’s replacing our grocery store runs. While I can water the garden, I now see that it grows much better when it rains. While I can put up shade cloth or frost cloth, I cannot control the heat or the cold, the sun or the wind. I am at His mercy, and so I pray to my loving heavenly Father for the good gifts He has for me. And I am grateful whether that gift is a bountiful harvest or a lesson in how to be a better steward of this little patch of earth next year!
Trinitytide: A Season for Growing
The liturgical year ends with the long season of Trinitytide, or (Greater) Ordinary Time. It is a season when we learn about and reflect on Jesus’s earthly ministry. The liturgical color of green in this season reminds us of how the Church grew and spread following Pentecost – and of the Great Commission to go and make disciples of all nations!
In the summer garden, green certainly is the predominant color, with little bright spots of yellow, orange, red, and purple as fruit ripens on the vine. They remind me of the many feasts sprinkled throughout Trinitytide. This is the season for growing and harvesting, but also for a lot of learning.
I keep catching myself wishing that I had bothered to learn some of these things earlier, before the plants got so big and unruly or before the weather got so hot or before I had planned the garden in the first place. It is so much like the Christian life – if only I had known [fill in the blank] before I had done this or that regrettable thing.
But, as my priest told me shortly after I converted, the liturgical year isn’t so much a circle as a spiral, calling you to greater depths and teaching you new things each time a particular season returns. Each season will feel different because you will be different, with a faith informed by the previous liturgical seasons (and season of life) you have faithfully observed. And so that is my prayer for my time in the garden and in the Church, that I experience each season anew, with greater understanding and deeper faith.
How has gardening informed your faith? Or has faith informed your gardening? Let me know in the comments below!
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