The coastland times. [volume] (Mnateo [i.e. Manteo], N.C.) 1947-1959, 1958-08-08
AUNT SUE FROM
SKYco WRITES
About the healing value Of
a garden

Wnen the Spdulng DeSInS, my
imagination runs to a bountiful
supply of tomatoes, beans, peas
and cucumbers. The harvest
though, / must admit, is very
scant even in a wet season.
In midsummer, when the grass
flourishes and chokes my strug-
Cling vegetable crop, / should feel
discouraged, but l don't, for l
spend nothing much except time
and love on it. l search, undaunt-
ed, for another handful of peas
and another tomato. Something
nice created by nature, together
with a little faith and help from
me.
Just now vegetables are plenti-
full and cheap at the stores, and
we do not complain about having
to supplement our puny supply.
Some seasons / get absolutely
nothing, but the next March al
ways finds me back at it again.
Among other good things to
come out of gardening are the
social benefits. People who dig
dirt and cultivate plants have a lot
in common with one another. My
garden, a tiny plot at the end of
the back yard, is just big enough
to be called a garden. But the
things l learn out there qualify
me as a gardener, and admit me
to that refreshing circle of ac-
quaintances addicted to the love
of the soil.
Some neighbors drop from our
"green thumb" group after one or
two failures. They do not reap
enough vegetables to pay for the
ploughing and fertilizer, not to
speak of the toll. A dry season
may produce nothing. And a good
season and successful garden may
present one with much labor in
canning or freezing. l am long
past the age of gardening on so
big a scale and must keep my
garden very small.
1t is all cluttered up. You
would laugh to see it. My roses
are there and iris and daffodils.
When the old chassis got too stiff
for so much bending, l moved
these plants from our lawn. The
| ioint-prass was always the winner
in our battle.
In the very early spring, prep
aration for a short row of salad
greens takes me into the garden.
1t is cold, but the soil spades
easily and the grass is dormant.
This-at a time when one feels
like kicking over the traces-from
so many months indoors. 1t is
wonderful therapy. 1t improves
one spiritually. In no place is one
closer to God than in the garden.
1t is impossible for my mind to
dwell on an injury or a slight, OF
for me even to remember what
was troubling me, while I'm work
ing there.
The physical exercise makes me
sleep well and gives me consider
able energy. And the happy,
across-the-fence chats and swap
ping of ideas. and seeds and cut
tings with other gardeners is a
delightful, innocent means of be-
ing a fine Christian neighbor. I.
This, the first good season in
several years for me, has reward
ed me with peas and beans and
tomatoes. We are enjoying them.
But even if l had only a parched
garden of vines, I'd be out there
raking and chopping, come next
planting time.
For in my garden is peace and
beauty. Often while there l ST.
lently repeat those lines from
Robert Browning, "Pippa's Song,
that we memorized in the sixth
grade long ago:
"The years at the spring, And
days at the morn; Mornings at
seven; The hill-side's dew-pearled;
The larks on the wing; The snail's
on the thorn; Gods in his heaven,
ALPS right with the world"