Lately, I've found myself outside in the garden. But don't get any grandiose ideas. By garden, I mean the bathtub-sized patch of overgrown dirt that separates my Southern porch from the sidewalk. I keep compulsively bending over the two rectangular container gardens that I planted, every time I take the dog outside for a walk or leave for work.

The container gardens are planted in two leftover recycling bins. (Baton Rouge changed from the green boxes to large rolling cans.) Reduce, re-use, recycle and grow, right? I'd been dreaming of planting a container garden for months, but was waiting for the right moment. I found it three weeks ago. On an epic trip to the hardware store, I bought tons of seeds and organic soil, but I was stumped when it came time to purchase a box or planter or pot.

A terra cotta pot (to match the rest on my porch) was too heavy. A galvanized beer tub felt too industrial. I spotted a red, flexible rubber tote box, but it seemed too bright, too modern. Then I remembered the green bins. And my Martha Stewart epiphany arrived; I needed burlap.

At home, I rinsed off the crusty, green boxes and shrouded them in burlap (to hide the bright Baton Rouge Recycling logo.) Then, I dumped in the dirt, carefully buried the seeds and said a quick prayer to the Goddess of Growth.

Isn't she a great one, that Goddess of Growth? She's like Ganesh in a pair of overalls, holding a spade and hoe. She shows up when she wants to and always makes a scene, that one. Like the uninvited party guest who arrives with a make-your-own Mojito kit and stories of pirates on distant shores. You can't exactly ask her to leave. But when she stays, you know things will never be the same.

Which brings me back to my teeny greenspace. Maybe that explains all the time spent, staring into the two by three cubic feet of growing sprouts. Perhaps, I'm trying to invoke some serious moments of change, one tiny, unrolling leaf at a time. Or maybe it's a fundamental connection to the creative source I'm looking for. Whatever the case, I'm a woman possessed. A sprout watcher.

So, when you think of me, imagine me out there. Bent over the boxes, surrounded by an audience of technicolor geckos and fire ants. We're all waiting. We're looking for signs.


07/09/2012 17:53

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08/01/2012 00:28

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The Pearl of Great Price mentions the following 4 things about the dwelling place of Heavenly Father.


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