In just a couple of weeks we will be planting rows and rows of potatoes. This will begin another season of gardening, another cycle of starting seeds in the greenhouse and transplanting vigorous young plants into the waiting beds. We will end up by planting all the “row crops” of peas and beans, corn and okra, on Good Friday.
Those of you who help pick the squash and blueberries, help dig the potatoes and gather the cucumbers, know how much fun we have in the garden. And those of you who help shell the peas, snap the beans and shuck the corn all tell us how much better the food tastes when you’ve helped in the preparation.
A famous writer died today. His name was John Updike. I remember he wrote a poem once about how children no longer learn the art of hoeing and working in a garden. That made him sad. He would be surprised to see how many of you get up before breakfast to come to the garden… Here is his poem.
Hoeing
I sometimes fear the younger generation
will be deprived
of the pleasures of hoeing;
there is no knowing
how many souls have been formed by this
simple exercise.
The dry earth like a great scab breaks,
revealing
moist-dark loam --
the pea-root's home,
a fertile wound perpetually healing.
How neatly the great weeds go under!
The blade chops the earth new.
Ignorant the wise boy who
has never rendered thus the world
fecunder.
John Updike
Meet you at the Orange Mailbox… Sarah Dabney
