3 posts tagged “garden”
The verse from Genesis continues "...and fill the earth and subdue it and have dominion over the fish of the sea and over the birds of the heavens and over every living thing that moves on the earth.” I also note that when the "creeping things" and other land animals were created, the commands to "be fruitful and multiply" and "subdue the earth" are missing.
Why do I bring this up?
Well, I think the Squash Bug population here in Idaho misinterpreted the verse, and thought that the covenant God made with Abraham (specifically that God promised ol' Abe that his children will be as the sand on the seashore or the stars in the sky: numberless...and no, Abe's last name wasn't even 'Hussey') and this command to be fruitful and multiply actually applied to them.
Silly bugs! The Bible's for man!
Of course, you can't fault the lovely critters too much. They were only trying to obey a verse they misinterpreted and misapplied. Let that be a lesson, though, in your Bible studies: consider the context. Ask questions like "were Adam and Eve the first Squash bug parents?" This should ensure you remain on the right footing.
I bring this up because I have just effectively buried our lone pumpkin plant. Sorry, kids, we'll just have to go to the pumpkin patch again this year...Oh, well. Could be worse. Instead of a hay ride, we could've enjoyed a bug ride.
In any event, for the past two days I have been organically (read: by hand) killing the voracious little pests. We misidentified them as stink bugs early in the season. They, however, misidentified my garden as the Ritz hotel. They also misidentified my pumpkin plant as their own version of Maui or Eden. The plant was wilting for weeks now, and I thought it was merely due to the neighboring zuchinni elbowing for more room on the tanning bed. To my horror, I found a frat party of bugs wearing togas and partying on like it was 1999! They even refused to use private facilities for their mating rituals...
So I was left with no choice. It was genocide, I am sorry to say. Utter genocide!
Blow torch in hand, literally, I torched them...male, female...even the little ones. They were so cute. Especially the ornamental eggs, hiding underneath every leaf, near the base of each stalk...So decorative, so festive.
Alas! I had to bring the hellfire and brimstone and napalm. At once I felt as if I should either give them a lesson in hermeneutics (study of how to properly interpret the Scripture), or as if I should simply do the easy thing: use bug spray.
Then I realized this: I am called to this task! I am man, and this is my earth, my land, and my MAPP gas torch (which was collecting dust, so why not bring the brimstone?). No, like Jonathan Edwards before me, I thought instead of the holiness of our Lord, and how we, like little Squash bugs, deserve nothing but the fire of judgment. I also thought how pernicious the curse is, and how our life in Christ is just like gardening: constantly fighting against the weeds, the bugs; constantly pruning, training; constantly fighting the deliberate and good fight. Otherwise: sin can so easily overcome and cut down our faith. Just one unturned leaf, just one, and there's another infestation to fight.
[The really odd thing is: that last part is true. This stuff really was going through my head. If you see me with a torch...well...look out! I'm going all "Great Awakening" on you!]
On another note: I realized that the best things in life are the most inefficient, most time-consuming tasks. Honestly, who wants to spend hours pulling weeds or pruning plants? Who wants to go through the trouble of taking your pumpkin or squash and combing over each leaf and vine? Who wants to squat in front of these plants and hand-pick the bugs (or torch them....)? It's time-consuming. It takes so much less effort to simply spray Sevin or some other pesticide on the plants.
Having said all that, I realized also the rewards. I realize the patience-building, and the fruit we'll reap. Same with our children: who wants to homeschool? Who wants daily time in training 6 kids? Why not simply leave these tasks to the "experts"? How much more "free time" would we have? It's so tempting, but such a lie at the same time. Much of the Christian walk is so inefficient, so time-consuming.
When it boils down to it, isn't that what we're made for? Isn't time itself something we need to dedicate to the Lord who gave it to us? Aren't the more difficult, inconvenient tasks also the most rewarding? That's why we're here, though. If we really believe that we came from the hand of God, and will wind up with Him in the end, then is dedicating more time and effort to His cause and to obedience (however "inconvenient") exactly what we exist for?
I have to finally add this: these thoughts are directed at me, and are simply some things I was thinking while committing Squash bug genocide with a blow torch. If I preach, it's to myself first and foremost, lest I forget why I'm here and what I'm doing.
Here's some public-domain pics of the critters. I decided against including the actual varmints from our garden in this post. They didn't deserve it...sorry, guys!
---JMH
Taking a pair of pliers, he twists the wire together as he'd done over a decade before, fingers remembering the old dance around the rebar, under the supervision of the California sun. This time, it isn't rebar or concrete forms he's dealing with, nor is he under a full layer of fire-retardant "Nomex" coveralls in the oldest oil refinery on the West Coast. He's in his own backyard, tying not steel but bamboo together. His aim: make the most cost-effective tomato trellis for his few dollars. The sands of time have slowed down, stretching the minutes into hours. He knew the project was taking longer than it should, but the garden had become his latest obsession.
Soon, he had tied together the first few supporting members. It was taking shape! The tic-tac-toe grid would help keep the tomatoes away from the cabbages, carrots and mesculine (salad greens mix). He hears the piercing cry moments later:
"Daddy!"
A flash of copper glints in his periphery. It was Jamesyn, the fighting-Irish redhead, breaking his reverie. His heart beats a rapid tattoo in his chest. His thoughts of years spent in the trenches at Avon refinery tying steel vanish in a moment, he can't help but grin: Jamesyn is a jealous child, and will not be ignored. It's alright, though. He doesn't want to ignore the chance at garden-time with one of his kids.
"Hey, beautiful!" he beams a smile at her. She meets his stare with her steel blue eyes, purse in hand and her oversized Dora backpack, bursting with books and activities, clutches onto her back for dear life. A Spiderman stuffed doll is clutched to her chest.
"I got my baby, Daddy. This is my baby. I got my pink pursie, Daddy," she shows off her accoutrements and takes off in a beeline for Daddy's arms.
Dropping his pliers and the tie wire, the gardener lifts up his daughter, squeezing her for all she's worth.
"Oh, this is your baby? Well, you're my baby, Jamie. I love you." Her response is inaudible as she's smothered in his kisses. She gives up trying to talk and surrenders to the onslaught, kissing him back and looking at the first trellis.
"What are you doing, Daddy?"
"Building a trellis for the tomatoes."
"A t-r-e-ll-i-s?" she responds, cocking her head to one side as she turns over the word in her mind like a jewler fascinated with a new gemstone. He knew what was coming next: "What's a 'trellis'?"
He explains, best he can, but she keeps asking, "What are you doing out here?" followed by "What's a trellis?"
He knows it's a game, more than a search for information, but plays along, answering same two questions for the next ten minutes. All the while, she's picking up the various tools in the yard, digging holes in the ground and picking up bits of wire. She spots her carrying case of sidewalk chalk and bends to pick it up, dropping Spiderman in the Idaho dust.
"Oh, no! My baby, Daddy!"
"What happened? Is he dirty?" he says, dusting him off. "Jamie, you're carrying too much stuff—your books are falling out, your baby fell, and you want to carry the chalk, too?"
He's forgotten, for a moment, what it was like to be two. Of course she wants to carry all her worldly possessions and follow her daddy around! He gives up the inquisition and returns Spiderman to his daughter.
Satisfied, and carrying the chalk as well, she somehow manages to stick her "sucky" in her mouth while precariously balancing her cargo in each arm. Soon, books begin to fall out of the open backpack again, and she trips. Not one to cry, she dusts herself off and decides she's done. The sun's rays beating on her coppertop were too much. Daddy-time was over for now.
"Love you, Jamie," he calls after her, as the door closes. He shakes his head, smiling and savoring his simple joys.
It is true. The Hussey's have been gardening. What initially started out as a small project has "bloomed". (That's gardener speak for: turned into a huge project that has darn near broke my husband's back.) I did a lot of research and decided that I was going to use the Square Foot Gardening method. Well, anyone that knows me well, knows that I am not the greatest planner. We went to a nursery JUST to get peat moss and vermiculite because I was not done planning what I would plant in our two modest 4x4 plots. I am not sure how we walked out with 18 corn, basil, oregano, thyme, 12 tomato plants, 4 yellow and 8 red bell pepper, 2 red onion, pumpkin, 4 sugar baby watermelon, 4 acorn squash, 8 butternut squash, 2 zucchini, jalapeno, 4 crookneck squash, arugala, lettuce, artichoke, 4 honeydew melons, 4 eggplant, 4 cabbage, 4 cucumber, 4 pickling cucumber, 12 spinach, 1 petite pepper, 5 strawberries, 4 cabbage, 2 bags of pole bean seeds, 1 bag of carrot seeds, and two bags of mesculin (mixed greens) seeds. It is like they put something in the air, or possibly had subliminal messages pouring out of their speakers. Or, maybe it was the heat in the greenhouse that did me in. But, we added two more 4x8 plots to accomodate it all and that is AFTER I returned 9 corn and gave Mariah 2 cuc's, 4 tomato's, and 4 crooknech squash.
James, I'm sure, has his own tale to tell about all of this work and his wife's crazy ideas since he was the one breaking his back. But, I am very thankful and excited. God willing, with all this sowing we will be able to do some heavy reaping. I can't wait to eat the fruit of our labor.
