Deep in my heart, I do believe… 

My gardens, The Rapture and 1940’s gospel music have all rooted in my mind these past few days.

Let me begin by asking this: Have you ever had a tune stuck in your head so that you wake in the night listening to your mind playing a song? Since last Friday I’ve been awakened by my brain repeating, No Restricted Signs In Heaven, a gospel tune sung by the Golden Gate Quartet.

I attribute this to the May 21^st predictions of the start of Armageddon and The Rapture, when certain evangelical Christians said that they would be lifted into heaven while the rest of earth’s inhabitants would  remain or go to hell. The deepest, truest part of me believes more in the message of this gospel song than in Herald Camping’s prediction.

“So how does this tie into the landscape?” you garden geeks ask. As an answer, I invite you to go outdoors between 5:30 and 7:30…AM or PM, it doesn’t matter. Stroll around the landscape with no other purpose other then being there, totally and completely.

Do you feel it? The life force in the garden is almost overpowering at this time of year, especially at the beginning or ending of the day. Growth and spirit are so strong that if you’re open to it, God’s presence is inescapable.

Bringing this message fully into the present moment, God’s being here is available to all. As the song playing in my mind says, you’re “Welcome! Welcome!”

A stroll through my landscape makes me absolutely, completely sure that The Rapture is here, right now, in the garden. Welcome home.

This part of the garden happened to be the area where I felt tremendous spiritual energy, but it is not singular to this landscape or my gardens. Growth, love, God, is everywhere for everyone. EVERYONE.

I picked the last bouquet of dahlias today. The foliage was already shriveled from a light frost on Sunday night, and it’s supposed to get even colder tonight. I picked some of the last greens from the garden for our salad, and cooked up the beets that were harvested last weekend.

Although it seems appropriate to mark this day, the end of this year’s growing season, my impulse is not to ramble on about endings and beginnings, or even sadness and relief. I’m inclined instead to just express my gratitude for the garden.

Let this be my prayer of thanks.

Every gardener should leave his or her garden for a week once in awhile. If you’ve gone on vacation during the growing season, you’ll know what I’m talking about when I say that things change so much in just seven days. In a short time some plants have finished flowering or lost all of their foliage while others have opened into bloom.

Such changes make us aware that our landscapes and resulting perceptions, feelings, thoughts and actions are fluid, shifting over time.

As I look back over my posts on this blog, I see recurring themes and not a little repetition. Although I strive to express new viewpoints here, my upmost goal is to write about what is in my heart today.

I believe this is a prayer of gratitude. By focusing on what I’m appreciating and discovering each day, I’m affirming that it’s all a gift that I’m extremely thankful for.

Look into your landscape in the next day or two, imagining that you’re seeing it, and taking it into your heart, after being away for some time. Can you experience it as absolutely cherished beyond measure?

The apricot colored Rhumba mums have come into bloom.

The 'Tiger's Eye' sumac is losing foliage but the Aster oblongifolius 'Raydon's Favorite' is filled with blue flowers.

Annual Alley is bursting with color. I've always said that dahlias are the queens of October, and they are proving it today. My husband picks dozens while The Dog "helps".

Tonight I looked out at the garden at 7 PM and the garden wasn’t visible: it was already dark. We’re two days from the autumnal equinox and the days are getting shorter. Part of me mourns the loss of early sunrises and long days, but I’m also determined to embrace the longer nights.

The song “Dark of Winter,” a Unitarian-Universalist hymn by Shelley Jackson Denham, comes to my mind. The WomanSpirit group from my church sings this at our winter solstice celebration and it’s one of my favorites.

Dark of Winter

As the nights grow longer, I want to hold these lyrics close to my heart, and let the peace flow through me.

Tomorrow is June 1^st. Every year at this time I remember my friend Cia telling me that someone she knew hated June because “it’s so green.” Although I don’t dislike June (too green?)  I agree that this month is an in-your-face, all-out-growth time of year.

I think that the challenge is to take it all in. Not only is the foliage green and lush, but the peonies are over-the-top fragrant and the poppies are practically screaming “Let’s put on lipstick and go out!” In June life is so exuberant and grand that it’s hard to properly absorb and appreciate it.

It’s not wonder that one of the well known tunes from the Rogers and Hammerstein musical Carousel is “June is Bustin’ Out All Over.” It absolutely is.

How can we best use and be grateful for this most abundant month? For me, it’s a matter of first stopping my high-speed planting to value what is here. But beyond the garden, June is a reminder to notice all of the areas of growth and abundance in our lives.

For family, work, friends, faith, spirit, gardens, pets, challenges and opportunities for growth, I am thankful. Life is bustin’ out all over, and is so very green.

Every day something new bursts into flower. The 'Belgica' honeysuckle, 'Collette' climbing rose, and the Siberian Iris... and more. I take a deep breath of appreciation and just try to take it all in.

When we’re busy just keeping up with all of life’s necessities it’s easy to forget to work on thoughtful growth. At this time of year even my gardening can become a matter of checking things off the to-do list. Today I watered plants, set up sprinklers in the early morning (and wished for more rain), worked at the garden center and brought home even more plants for the lineup of things-that-really-need-to-get-planted-damnit.

So tonight I went out as the light faded from the sky; I watched as the color drained from the garden and the world turned black and grey. Even this brief act of appreciating nightfall in the garden felt centering and peaceful.

Growth doesn’t just come in the daylight, when the world is awake and busy, I thought. Growth also happens when there is no color and we’re all at rest. No matter what time it is, we’re able to make personal progress in small moments of gratitude, attention and prayer.

Reminder to self: several times a day, stop and just absorb where you are at that moment. Drink in your surroundings and think about what you are cultivating in that moment.

Walking in the garden in the early morning, I appreciated how the rising sun illuminated the plants... but it was also a reminder to me to try to bring metaphorical light into the rest of my day. I'd like to say that this stayed with me all day, but the truth is that the thought flew out of my brain as soon as I got in the car to drive to work. How to better remember a moment like this? Perhaps I could pick up a pebble or a leaf to carry in my pocket, and use that to prompt my resolve.

It rained for much of the day here in eastern Massachusetts. The local news warns people who live in flood plains to be ready to evacuate their homes. The soil is fully saturated, so the rainfall won’t be able to soak into the ground.

It rained about a week ago, and at Poison Ivy Acres we received two and a quarter inches. In the summertime this wouldn’t leave the soils so wet, because the plants would be actively growing. The roots would be drawing that water out of the ground, using it for photosynthesis, and releasing the excess into the air through the stomata in their leaves. This whole process keeps the plants growing and moves water out of the soil and back into the air.

At the end of March, however, the deciduous plants haven’t broken dormancy so they have no foliage and the evergreens are still dormant. Most of last week’s rainfall is still in the ground.

I’m thinking that we humans can be over-saturated as well and need a way to release what has built up in our lives. Be it joy or sorrow, when we’re filled up we need a means of letting go. Some people turn to creating music, poetry or art in these times. Some plant gardens. When we’re so filled up with delight or despair that we need to touch something larger than ourselves, we talk to friends and family, or turn to God in prayer.

This reminds me of Anne Lamott who wrote that she knows two prayers well: “Help me, help me, help me,” and “Thank you, thank you, thank you.” These prayers stem from being completely inundated with anguish or happiness, and we can all relate.

There are times when we’re totally saturated, and need something, someone, or God to take the excess up.

The moss loves this frequent rainfall. It uses what it needs, but isn't bothered by the excess down below.

I have to get this posted fairly quickly, because in thirty minutes it will be Earth Hour, and I will turn off my laptop and all of the lights in the house. My husband jokingly asked if we could use our computers on battery, and I shook my head. We’ll light candles and enjoy each other’s company, forgoing anything that requires power for at least one hour.

The theme of this day for me is personal action, it seems. I rehearsed with the WomanSpirit group from my church this afternoon, as we prepared the service for tomorrow. We are honoring Carolyn McDade, composter of two of my favorite hymns. She might not call them hymns, but I do since there is something holy about Spirit of Life and We’ll Build A Land.

These two events, Earth Hour and the service celebrating Carolyn McDade come together with gardening I think. When we garden, we do what we can. The weather is out of our control, weed seeds lay dormant, waiting to sprout for over fifty years, and our type of soil may not support the plants we want to grow. Still, we cope with that which we have no power over, and we cultivate to our best abilities.

I don’t have the capability to reverse global warming quickly, but I can turn my lights out for an hour tonight. In doing so, I connect with others around the world (think of that, around the world!) who also deeply care about the future of this blue planet.

Reversing injustice is beyond my personal jurisdiction, but I can gather with others to affirm and celebrate justice through prayer and song. And in the garden I can make good choices, forgoing products that harm wildlife or work against natural processes. In this I join with gardeners throughout history and the world, as we unite to cherish the land.

We may not have the power to instantly reverse environmental damage or other wrongs, but that doesn’t mean that we don’t have the responsibility to do what we can. We are gardeners, and we can always plant wisely.

Today I did two things that I don’t do often enough. I went to church, and took my dog for a walk at a local dog haunt. At the Barnstable Unitarian Sunday services, Kristen Harper gave a thoughtful and moving sermon about the New Year. Later, when I was walking the dog, I met friendly people who were willing to celebrate absolute delight.

Kristen’s reading this morning began with a poem by Mary Oliver that ended with “Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?”    Good question.

Because the New Year is a time for reflection about the past and the future, Kristen spoke about the importance of knowing if you are living abundantly, or if you are merely growing old. She spoke of the difference between making New Year’s resolutions, compared with New Year’s consecrations.

A consecration is defined as, “a solemn commitment of your life or your time to some cherished purpose.” A New Year’s consecration means we are resolved, spiritually, emotionally and intellectually, to live with great meaning and purpose. We are dedicated to living abundantly, not just growing old.

I felt that I was living a plentiful life today both at church and when I walked The Dog at Eagle Pond. As I walked Riley, I met two groups of dog owners who were sociable people with friendly dogs. We all enjoyed the exercise, the crisp air, and the joyful pets. Dogs are completely in the moment, and the people and pets that ran around the pond today were all fully present and happy to be there.

Abundance is often thought of in terms of material goods or riches, but as a gardener, I know that it’s about the willingness to cultivate good things. This New Year, I want to consecrate my wild and precious life, my time and attention, to being joyful, to conscious cultivation, and to connections with others.

I want my live my life as abundantly as the Martha's Vineyard Farmers Market.