Comfort in Creation

I have cut the chives three times already this year, the potatoes are in, I’ve planted kohlrabi, broccoli, red and white onions, two kinds of tomatoes (yes, tomatoes), and I expect to have a salad from the lettuce garden nestled in the cold frame within the next few days.

Nothing gives me greater hope for the future than working the soil and watching a plant grow. I imagine it has something to do with a family gene that is manifested by dirt under half chewed fingernails.

I grew up on a farm and as soon as I could I tagged around with my grandfather planting potatoes in one field, popcorn in another, sweet corn in yet another, and watermelon & muskmelon on a sandy ridge too covered with sandburs to grow anything else. Of course, there was also the “regular” garden with all of its varied vegetables, bordered by red raspberry bushes and apple trees.

Both dad and granddad worried about the weather and crops and taxes and lack of income and just about everything else, thus the chewed fingernails. But, as soon as there was dirt under the tips of their fingers the world seemed right. When there was food for the family there was comfort for the soul.

I know there is plenty to worry about these days and my fingernails are embarrassingly short, but there is dirt under my fingertips and I have hope. It’s funny the way God works.