Previous Challenge Entry (Level 3 - Advanced)
Topic: Garden (09/07/06)
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TITLE: Labor of Love | Previous Challenge Entry
By Mary Shores
09/11/06 -
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But gardening was more difficult than it seemed and once I was married and a homeowner my husband and I tried our skill at growing some tomatoes. He wanted to grow all sorts of herbs and other vegetables but I only cared about the plump, red and oh so sweet tomatoes like I had remembered from home. Gardening takes time, however, and with both of us working full-time, our postage-stamp patch of a garden was often overrun with peppermint that had no problem asserting itself, and the tomatoes of my dreams never materialized.
There were years when we moved from place to place and rented homes instead of owning the land. Gardens could only appear in large boxes or pots and were rarely productive. We were growing our children by that time and put all of our creativity into their development instead of trying to develop a better tomato. In time we would own another home and try again for a garden.
Thanks to small feet that trampled, a wonderful dog who enjoyed digging, rabbits that seemed to appear at just the right moments to satisfy their appetites and eventually misplaced soccer balls kicked repeatedly in the wrong direction, our garden did not grow. Mary, Mary, quite contrary, how does your garden grow, was a rhyme my mother used to recite for my benefit. I never knew how to respond. If she had asked me in recent years I would have had to answer, “ Not well” referring to the sad, neglected little patch of dirt that always had a good start with proper seeds and a cute little border of bricks but would soon be overgrown with weeds.
Our neighbor, Mr. Clark, however, had a beautiful garden. We didn’t see him except for when he worked in his garden since he had long since retired and was in his 90’s. I think his first name was Greene and I would like to think his thumb was the reason for the name. In the tiny garden he tended were the most beautiful tomato plants around. He had carefully staked each plant to enhance growth and there he would be, watering, fertilizing and providing as much loving care as he could. Perhaps after outliving many in his circle of family and friends, he needed to nurture life in this way.
One day, not long after we had moved next door, awakening the neighborhood with the sounds of our three sons then aged 7, 4 and 1, as well as our very loud old dog, Mr. Clark went to care for his garden and waved to us as usual. I went in the house continuing to sneak peeks at him from my kitchen window where I was cleaning up. He moved slowly yet deliberately around his plants cultivating and encouraging them. I thought about how quiet his days must have been before we moved in and wondered if he appreciated the chaos that seemed to follow us wherever we went. He had been very patient when my 4-year-old had decided he was hungry and knocked on his door requesting an apple. Much to my surprise my son was given an apple and Mr. Clark smiled back at us even more after that.
The day after I watched Mr. Clark tending his garden, an ambulance came to take him to the hospital, but he had already gone on to his next residence in heaven. As Mr. Clark was carried away, my eyes caught sight of that beautiful garden. It saddened me that the next owner may never care how much Mr. Clark had labored over those plants and I knew the garden would probably one day be plowed under. But Mr. Clark had only been doing what we are all called to do. He was living out each of his days in the hope and glory of God.
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