I had a berry good day

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I never imagined that teasing John about his new gardening hobby could be so sweet and satisfying…as in sweet, tasty fruit.

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Prior to this, it was mostly making fun of his FarmVille habit, but these days, I’m shutting up. It turns out I am enjoying working alongside him in the evenings. We don’t do much…a little watering, a little weeding, maybe some pruning. Then we sit down and wait for the lightning bugs to come out.

Mostly, we just enjoy the silence between us. Except for the occasional frog croaking.

Who knew so much could be said with a smile or a look.

Otis, gardening, and the essential elements

The dog peed on John’s watermelon plant this morning.

The conversation that followed in the car on the way to Mass can best be described as hilariously combative. First, he was incensed at the dog. Second, it’s pretty bad form to go to Mass pissed off. About a plant. It was more resignation at the puppy’s antics than real annoyance. Until he decided to get ridiculous about adding a fence to the garden. Then I got annoyed.

Then, he pulled out a nuclear weapon.

The weapon? My friend Margaret Rose Realy.

Really.

Well, actually, her book. Somebody’s been secretly reading A Garden of Visible Prayer and using Margaret’s master gardening experience against me! The nerve!

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We need to define the garden, he says. We need essential elements.

Seriously? I just want a nice, quiet, peaceful place.

Oh. Wait. He’s been creating that all this time.

Keep reading, dear.

tending to my garden

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After recording Catholic Weekend this morning, I joined John on the back porch. That area has turned into quite a retreat for us, and although I complained and moaned about the expense, and especially his design for the structure, I figured it’s his hobby, stay out of it.

Except, there’s no way for me to stay out of it. In fact, I’m always in it, as in, sitting in the cool shade enjoying the breeze and the natural air conditioning when the sprinklers come on and a fine mist refreshes us. Good call, honey. I don’t even mock his little corn rows even though the neighbors tease him plenty, even calling him Farmer John.

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Anyway, so we’re sitting outside enjoying some sweet tea and watching the dog chase his tail. I’d been doing some weeding in the roses and he’d been playing around on his iPad when I came up and plopped next to him, complaining that I couldn’t get Immaculate Mary out of my head. He laughed and suggested that maybe I should get Mary out of the weeds…

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Poor Mary…I had neglected her, too. These past weeks of travel, planning, and general malaise took a toll on her in the garden, but it also took a different toll on me.

Tending to the weeds is usually an easy project. In the evenings when I sit outside with John, it only takes a few minutes for me to pull some new growth, maybe cut off some deadheads from the rose bushes, and I’m back to my cup of coffee or glass of wine to continue to enjoy our conversation. If…if…I tend to things a little bit every day. If not, things get overgrown easily. If I abandon it altogether, and I’d often done that when the children were little, it would take a backhoe to set things right again. Sometimes so much damage had been done that razing the field and starting over was the best solution.

So I patiently tackled Mary’s little area. And Momma Mary patiently tackled me, pulling some weeds out of my heart and sending me on my way, pointing in her Son’s direction.

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There’s still some work to be done. Some of those weeds took root, and the mulch needs a new layer, but things are looking better.

Much better.

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