gardening

The Gardener

Tagged:  •    •  

Because she thought he was the gardener...

The Gardener hung on the cross to atone for the gardeners. On the third day, he rose from the dead, conquering the death and evil that swept through his garden.

He prunes us. He snips away the deadness.

He gives us life. We, the branches, suck nutrients, minerals, and the water of life from the Vine. The Gardener became the firstfruits of the resurrection for which the whole garden groans.

It groans.

We groan.

The Theology of Gardening

Tagged:  •    •  
It was time for some fall planting.
I'm new at this whole gardening thing. In other words, I have no idea what I'm doing. Good thing my mom's brilliant with these things. Last week, I spent a few days in their neck of the woods (and I mean that literally), and helped my mom do some of her gardening. Very instructive. For example, I learned that pansies and snap dragons are winter flowers.
So home again, home again this weekend and time to work on my miniature garden (which never feels miniature when you're working on it).

My Own Arboretum

Tagged:  •  
This is what I've been up to, why I never even signed onto the internet yesterday (shocking).

Picture Perfect

Tagged:  •  
Okay, so how often do I post pictures? Usually, I'm too lazy, so savor the moment. I went to the Dallas Arboretum for their Spring Blooms with a writer, Jeanne (who is an amazing writer - her posts at The Master's Artist often lead me to both prayer and laughter - and an even more amazing person). So here are some of my fave pics:

The Constant Gardener

Tagged:
Chris has whipped out his green marker and is doing his best to color my thumb. Okay, so it's a washable marker and it may take a while for this thing to stick, but we color on.
This past weekend, Chris and I planted strawberries, a couple different types of tomatoes, basil, and aloe vera. (And my daffodils are budding! Hopefully my tulips will follow suit.) Oh, and I planted a cutting from what I think is a rose bush, if I remember correctly.
Sigh. I feel so at-one with nature.

Composting

Tagged:  •  
This past weekend I learned that my husband’s packrat tendencies come from his father, who gets it from his father. It’s a stagnant gene pool collecting everything.
Scared me to death.
Confession: I used to be a packrat. I thought everything had sentimental value and was worthy of putting away. No longer. Now I want to throw away everything except for leftovers in the fridge.
Chris: But I might need that someday.
Not if you don’t even remember that you have it because it’s in a pile with three million other unknown objects.
Syndicate content