Some of you might know, others of you may not, I have a very different, but very crazy awesome living situation here in Saint Louis. I am very fortunate to live in the apartment above this carriage house (see picture in previous post) that was built in 1901. The carriage house is seated right behind a giant 3 story house (plus basement!) that was also built in 1901. The conditions of my housing are thus: I am to provide 40 hours of house and yard work to the big house each month in exchange for rent.
Let it digest...
AWESOME, right???
This has its ups and downs, as it means I am often times a maid for the very kind couple that lives in the antique, but beautiful home out front of my own. BUT, it has a very nice upswing: it means that I am also their gardener.
What?
I love the earth. I love green things. I love nature and creation and all that stuff.
By no means does that make me a granola or magically make one of my thumbs green. What it means is that I have been given a gift. I never anticipated that moving to a metropolitan area would for me be a return to the land, but it has been! How I have longed for a yard to mow, weeds to pull, and plants to prune, without knowing. I get to do a job for someone else, which is much easier than doing a job for one's self (I think), and dig in the dirt!
It is an experience that harkens to both my Franciscan theology and my Benedictine mind.
That is to say, the optimistic view of creation that is held by the Order of the Friars Minor, founded by St. Francis of Assisi, is co-mingled in my heart with the call from the Order of St. Benedict, which calls for a life of work and prayer, the work being a lived metaphor for the tilling, and labor it takes to become a new creation, of course, with Christ being the real one working and you allowing him to change your heart. It was, for them, also a means of sustenance.
And as I have worked this land, I have found so much joy, working in the Lord's creation, co-working, as it were. And as I work, I see many things that harken to scripture, and many things that harken to my life.
The obvious, as I prune the tomato plants...
So I begin to cut the dead stuff away and I'm sort of meditating and praying and thinking when I begin to realize something.
First, me cutting the dead and dying things away is a really good thing for the plant; simply, because it doesn't weigh the vine down, it doesn't suck up nutrients from the plant, so the other good branches can get the goods to make good fruit, etc. But I also realize that this dead stuff that I am cutting away is really good FOR the plant. You see, here at this estate (it's not an estate, but I'm a big fan of Magnum P.I., so I'm going to refer to it as an estate) we have one of the coolest compost piles I have seen in a while. There is a hedge that creates a barrel sort of shape in the corner of the yard. There is a small hole at the bottom of one side, where the richest soil you'll ever see sort of drains out.
So as I am pruning, and shoveling, and weeding, I'm having this realization:
All the stuff that is in the past, all the stuff that has fallen away, that might have been bad or just isn't around any more; that stuff is not really gone. It has become the rich soil that is nourishing me. Of course first, it has to be cut off, or at least removed and refined, or processed.
That's what I think these past couple of weeks here in St. Louis, alone, in this killer apartment have been, a time to reflect, process, and be enriched by the soil that has come from my past. Not to be weighed down by branches that are just going to steal my energy. By no means am I suggesting that I am cutting off all of my friends and family from Florida, but I have to call it how it is and take the sunshine and rain from here to nourish the soil that I already have. I cannot rely on any "food" spiritual or emotional from the far off lands.
Now that the extended, and perhaps over drawn, metaphor is done, check out these awesome roses and other cool plants that I take care of!
Let it digest...
AWESOME, right???
This has its ups and downs, as it means I am often times a maid for the very kind couple that lives in the antique, but beautiful home out front of my own. BUT, it has a very nice upswing: it means that I am also their gardener.
What?
I love the earth. I love green things. I love nature and creation and all that stuff.
By no means does that make me a granola or magically make one of my thumbs green. What it means is that I have been given a gift. I never anticipated that moving to a metropolitan area would for me be a return to the land, but it has been! How I have longed for a yard to mow, weeds to pull, and plants to prune, without knowing. I get to do a job for someone else, which is much easier than doing a job for one's self (I think), and dig in the dirt!
It is an experience that harkens to both my Franciscan theology and my Benedictine mind.
That is to say, the optimistic view of creation that is held by the Order of the Friars Minor, founded by St. Francis of Assisi, is co-mingled in my heart with the call from the Order of St. Benedict, which calls for a life of work and prayer, the work being a lived metaphor for the tilling, and labor it takes to become a new creation, of course, with Christ being the real one working and you allowing him to change your heart. It was, for them, also a means of sustenance.
And as I have worked this land, I have found so much joy, working in the Lord's creation, co-working, as it were. And as I work, I see many things that harken to scripture, and many things that harken to my life.
The obvious, as I prune the tomato plants...
("I am the vine; you are the branches. Whoever abides in me and I in him, he it is that bears much fruit, for apart from me you can do nothing." - John 15:5)
So I begin to cut the dead stuff away and I'm sort of meditating and praying and thinking when I begin to realize something.
First, me cutting the dead and dying things away is a really good thing for the plant; simply, because it doesn't weigh the vine down, it doesn't suck up nutrients from the plant, so the other good branches can get the goods to make good fruit, etc. But I also realize that this dead stuff that I am cutting away is really good FOR the plant. You see, here at this estate (it's not an estate, but I'm a big fan of Magnum P.I., so I'm going to refer to it as an estate) we have one of the coolest compost piles I have seen in a while. There is a hedge that creates a barrel sort of shape in the corner of the yard. There is a small hole at the bottom of one side, where the richest soil you'll ever see sort of drains out.
It looks sort of like this. So that I can put things like this...
... that come from this guy (who is great by the way)...
... and this...
... to make super awesome plant nutrients that will help grow beautiful flowers and tomatoes and whatnot!
So as I am pruning, and shoveling, and weeding, I'm having this realization:
All the stuff that is in the past, all the stuff that has fallen away, that might have been bad or just isn't around any more; that stuff is not really gone. It has become the rich soil that is nourishing me. Of course first, it has to be cut off, or at least removed and refined, or processed.
That's what I think these past couple of weeks here in St. Louis, alone, in this killer apartment have been, a time to reflect, process, and be enriched by the soil that has come from my past. Not to be weighed down by branches that are just going to steal my energy. By no means am I suggesting that I am cutting off all of my friends and family from Florida, but I have to call it how it is and take the sunshine and rain from here to nourish the soil that I already have. I cannot rely on any "food" spiritual or emotional from the far off lands.
Now that the extended, and perhaps over drawn, metaphor is done, check out these awesome roses and other cool plants that I take care of!
It is a pretty sweet gig.
aaaand, I'll try to figure out how to make these shorter.
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