Thursday, June 17, 2010

In Search of Our Father's Garden

 I grew up in the country.  A simple house nestled on 25 acres of farmland...a playground I shared with two sisters and a brother.  Some of my earliest memories involve sitting in a worn leather saddle atop a horse named Lady as my dad brushed her mane.   I was royally escorted through enchanted play by a german shepherd named King...dined regularly from honeysuckle bushes that fringed the edge of our yard, and gathered plums and pears from the ground as bulging tree branches released their overflow.  


It was an adventure to ride on the tailgate of my dad's old truck, or the back of his tractor, as he made the journey through the pasture to gather harvest from each garden.  The rows of vegetables seemed to go on for miles as I sat in the blazing sun waiting for him to walk back and forth carrying armloads of rich reward for his labor.  I could trace the outline of his work-boots against earthen sod as he worked his way to the end of each row...soon he would be totally out of sight and out of reach.  Songbirds filled the trees heralding the melody for the day.  The sky above looked as deep as the sea...if I gazed into it long enough it seemed to reveal secrets to tomorrow's journey.  Fertile soil tilled and harvested year after year stretched across the pasture like summer's blanket.  As I frolicked across the bed of the truck to the tune of the moment, I could imagine another world and be in it in an instant.  However, I was completely unaware of one reality...that I was standing beneath the very trees that would one day cradle forts built by future nephews...a creek that flowed nearby would one day trickle beneath bridges built by my future sons.  Many gardens would come and go between then and now...a new generation would one day ride a pony named Star, and make an even deeper search through these hills discovering portals that would spark their search for destiny.


Throughout the years I have watched the earth respond in abundance as my dad puts his hand back to the soil from which he was formed.  I'm realizing the value of such legacy as I till the soil in the garden of my own life.  The opening of the earth in spring has become as intoxicating to me as fine fragrance...an aroma and texture that entices me to place new creative ideas in fresh soil, and bask in the treasure it reflects.  For years our family has eaten the good of my dad's land...I often wonder if he realizes that it provided more than just food for the table...it harvested a never ending search for a deeper reveal!