Planting, Faith and the End of the World

If today ends up being the last day....well, so what? This could be one of the last of my futile exercises. Yesterday I planted my tomatoes (FINALLY!!). Our daughter Peach called while I was in the garden to ask me what I thought about this end of the world prediction. I'd seen the story on the early news yesterday morning, turned to the Cowboy and said, "Oh, good." As in - what a relief!! I know that we can't know. As a matter of fact, page 2022 of my bible says no one knows the day or hour. So I'm going along with that....no one knows. (When I said "my" bible earlier, I meant my copy -- I didn't write a bible...just sayin').

Peach & I ended our conversation and I went back to planting. In the distance in all directions I heard tractors working in the fields -- incidentally, there are few sounds more thrilling than the roar of the mighty diesel engine of a tractor...sigh. I thought to myself, "If tomorrow is the end of the world, planting my garden was a waste of time." But I wasn't alone -- lots of planting was going on. You just have to keep going till you're told to stop. I figure I'm going to keep working until I drop in the harness. (It's a metaphor - I'm not really forced to be in a harness....again--poetic license).

I love planting stuff. How cool to take a wrinkled seed, put it in the dirt and wait optimistically for the sprout. A rainbow emerges from a brown seed. It's like taking a part in creation--what an awesome privilege. Farmers have such great faith. A person wouldn't work so hard against such odds without a great faith.

I planted my window boxes at work on Friday. Still trying to make a silk purse out of that old sow's ear. The geraniums look so happy and inviting. Planting is sometimes fraught with peril - I got stung by a bee. Then at home I hit my hand with a hammer while I was driving a metal stake to mark a tomato row (the bee-stung hand, at that). I don't know why I'm telling you this -- I guess so you'll be impressed with my bravery, my sacrifice, my clumsiness amazing ability. hahaha

I finally finished planting my tomatoes, green peppers, cauliflower & broccoli, checked on the chicks and walked to the house. Everything looks so pretty. I have a row of hostas growing along the sidewalk--and growing about 4 inches over the sidewalk. This infuriates the Cowboy. I think they're pretty; he hates them. He likes the neat & tidy lines; I like a more cottage-y feel. For the first 150 years, we did it his way and for the last 6, I've had hostas along the walk. By my math, I have 144 years of hostas to step over walk beside. But I don't think my math will be accepted. I may be transplanting hostas today...unless the world ends.