31 Comments
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Kathryn L-B's avatar

So beautiful, Christine! Thank you for another great piece!

Christine Vaughan Davies's avatar

Thanks Kathryn! I was hoping to get into the garden today, but it looks like the rain will force me to read beautiful substack articles instead!

Mary Austin (she/her)'s avatar

Mmm…what a beautiful piece of writing! Thanks for this.

Christine Vaughan Davies's avatar

Thanks Mary! Sometimes I wander in my writing, so I appreciate hearing that you see beauty when I see random thoughts!

Tina Morales's avatar

I’m here for the goat milk 🐐 and honey 🍯! In all seriousness this is the perfect read for an overcast Saturday morning, when the leaves are unfurling and the buds are perking up from their rest. I started gardening during a divorce and never stopped. Tending soil and sound bathing are the only two things I find truly meditative. I just walked the dog and noticed a few weeds in my cutting garden.

Christine Vaughan Davies's avatar

I'm impressed you only have a few weeds, as mine are endless already! And the good news is I can deliver your soap in person! Let me know the next time you're going to a sound bath, I'd love to tag along!

CRAIG T. BARTH's avatar

I am not as avid of a gardener and farm devotee as you. But the modest gardening and yard work that I have done, especially during springtime, has taught me a lot about the afterlife. The afterlife is not the same as the current life, but it is a life, just like this year's tomatoes are not identical to last years, but they are built upon last year's. That is how I view the after-earthly-life.

Christine Vaughan Davies's avatar

Craig, what a perfect reflection. The seasonality of time and how the soil contains it all is a sermon in and of itself! I still need to work on my composting, but that metaphor is profound. Will you be at Presbytery this week? If so, I'll bring you some soap then!

Sara Barry's avatar

One of my favorite things to plant is garlic. I love that we plant it when everything else is dying down, knowing that it is there waiting during the long winter, seeing it emerge in early spring.

Plus you get two crops (scapes and bulbs), so double the delight.

And yes, I can lose myself weeding.

Christine Vaughan Davies's avatar

Oh I have not tried garlic yet! Maybe I'll do that this fall. I did try overwintering some onions, but not sure how they turned out yet!

With you in the weeds!

Sara Barry's avatar

It took me a long time to start on garlic, but it’s so easy!

Christine Vaughan Davies's avatar

Ok! Give me all the tips! 🤣

Sara Barry's avatar

It goes it late fall ... I usually mean to do it earlier, but don't because fall is chaotic. I'm in zone 6a, but still think of myself as 5b. I usually plant around Halloween give or take a week.

You can order seed garlic or get it from the farmer's market. I've done both. Once you grow your own, you can save some for planting (I never grow enough to do this).

Divide the head into cloves. Plant 2–3 inches deep and 6 inches apart. You're supposed to cover with straw or leaves. I'm usually kind of half-assed about this, and it's been fine. When your spring bulbs start coming up, look for your garlic :)

Cut the scapes for pesto (sometimes I put one or two in a flower arrangement). For me it's usually mid-June.

Then I debate when to harvest and usually end up deciding based partially on summer schedule. I dry mine on a clothes drying rack in the barn.

Christine Vaughan Davies's avatar

Oh, thank you for this master class! I'm going to try it this year (I'm also in zone 6A!). And a clothing rack to dry them out, what a great idea! I've seen people braid them before, which I'm also intrigued by.

Katarina Wong's avatar

I really enjoyed this article. Until recently, I was a city dweller who never gardened. I’m surprised to see how much I enjoy the act of planting and tending my assortment of herbs and flowers, now that I have a garden. It really is an act of spiritual connection.

Christine Vaughan Davies's avatar

It was surprising to me too that I loved it this much! I have dreams of people coming to our guest house on retreat and having spiritual direction while gardening (or hanging out with the bees, but that's only for the really adventurous!) Send me a message with your address so I can ship you some soap!

Sue Ross's avatar
4dEdited

I am a retired hospice chaplain and love your writings. I agree that digging in the dirt can be contemplative and nourishing for my spirit. I live in Michigan where the weather has been limiting for planting but I have finally turned up the dirt and have my seeds ready! Thank you for the gardening words.

Christine Vaughan Davies's avatar

Thanks Sue! I am always humbled when chaplains tell me they appreciate my words, as you know this work deeply and I want to get our profession right! (and help others learn from what we do!)

What is the hardiness zone in Michigan? What are you planting? I sometimes dream of warmer climates where I could be outside gardening more, but then August rolls around and I'm too exhausted to keep going anyway.

Also, message me your address so I can send you some soap!

Peter Wright's avatar

A great reminder of the value of growing plants as food for both the body and the soul, Christine. For many years, I was a farmer in Africa growing many acres of vegetables and fruit for both the local market and export to Europe. Early mornings and late afternoons walking through my pea fields or granadilla orchards were spiritual experiences. Now, I grow microgreens in trays for my daily salad.

Katie Murchison Ross's avatar

Love this! I have definitely experienced gardening as a spiritual practice. Sometimes, in the weeding (which at times I detest) I find a metaphor for my spiritual life. I will never root out all the runners and roots that go down deep, beneath the surface, but in tracing them down as far as I can and pulling where I’m able, I make space for fruit and sometimes even discover fruits that were there the whole time but obscured.

Katie Murchison Ross's avatar

I also love your reflections on the grief in gardening; I hadn’t made that connection before.

Leah Rampy's avatar

Here’s to gardening. In addition to all the reasons you mentioned, it’s a link to our ancestors who grew their food. And assuming we are building healthy soil, we are eating more nutritional and tastier food! Thanks for the work you do.

George Christian Ortloff's avatar

What a compelling and complete essay! As it happens, I'm working on an essay of my own on the word "tend" (and its companions, attend and attention). You have added much valuable perspective to my meditations on the theme. THANK YOU

Pam McCarty's avatar

Not only is a garden beautiful but the hope of seeds exploding into flowers is a wonderful sight. Thanks for sharing.

Almut | Weary Pilgrim's avatar

Lovely picture and title also. :-)

Almut | Weary Pilgrim's avatar

This is a beautiful post, Christine. Looking forward reading it all after my Hildegard Retreat this morning :-) Much blessings to you and your readers here!

Jeannie Prinsen's avatar

I really appreciated this piece. I don't consider myself a gardener per se but there are still so many applications to life.

Kathleen Banfield's avatar

Last summer, I planted a small gingko tree on my front lawn. I figured if these beautiful trees can survive a nuclear bomb, it ought to thrive in NJ!

So far, my little tree looks happy and healthy.Hopefully, my family will admire her (yes, my tree is female) long after I'm gone.