Advent and the Calla Lily's Call

Post 17

Bare Tree, Bright Tree

Hello and welcome to Advent, the last part of the darkening year, the first part of the yet-to-be-born year.  Traditionally it's a time for quiet and meditation --after the garden's bounty, after the harvest and feast, before the light.

"God beyond answers
Lord beyond words
Spirit beyond imagining
Move us today. Amen"

This prayer, from the Church of Scotland's website, greatly moved me when I read it.  Unbidden, there arose in my mind's eye a globe, alight and vibrant with uncountable,  invisible connections.  And accompanying it, a bit like an inaudible trumpet's call, was the urge to write this...

"What if you could thank everyone who has ever prayed for you or blessed you or wished you well?

Who would you meet?

The stranger who once saw your stricken face through a car window?


The cashier you were impatient with?


The patron you were able to cheer?

Your spouse, in mid-argument? Your spouse, in mid-pleasure?

A teacher you can hardly remember?

Someone who read something you wrote, or heard secondhand something you said?
 

The atheist who wished you well?

The person whose dog played with your dog in the dog park?

The child or sibling or relative who never understood you, or whom you never understood? The child or sibling or relative you think doesn’t understand, but understands you too well?

The friend who sympathizes?  The friend who has outgrown you?  The friend you have outgrown?

The enemy who wishes you were not so easy to despise?  The enemy who wishes you were not so hard to despise?  The enemy who is no enemy at all?

The parent who wishes life could teach you more gently?  The parent who wishes life could teach you at all? The parent who wishes love had more power in this world? The child who wishes they could save their parents?

What if everyone you had prayed for, or blessed, or wished well, could thank you?

What if we found out we had all prayed for each other or wished each other well? Wished each other better?

What if we all forgave each other?

What if we were all grateful?

Would, even could I?  Would, even could you, any of us?

Or is that what something like heaven is for? I do not know, but I wonder."

If you think it's a bit treacly, well yeah, it might be. But why are we so overly afraid of treacly in our culture?  Cool is like a gangster boss inside our souls demanding cash for not much of value.  I chose not to give in to that.  So while I'm not much for mortifying my flesh; I am for mortifying my cool.


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How-to Calla:  The white and maroon trumpeting flowers you see above are scientifically no longer either Calla or Lily, but thankfully, such a melodious name for such a fetching plant remains. Their flowers remind me of the elongated instruments played by etoilated angels that brighten Medieval manuscripts.


Zantedeschia aethiopica, originates, as you can guess, in Africa. As such, our climate is a bit too cold and wet for them to overwinter. You can dig out their rhizones in the fall and overwinter them as you would a Dahlia. This means dig up the gnarly rootstock after cold has damaged the leaves, dry the rootstock out, then pack up in moistened perlite. In spring plant back up with plenty of water. Callas like some shade and water, while good drainage and rich soil is a plus. But all, in all, they are easy. 


They can be expensive though, which is why I only grew them one year.  (Should have overwintered them.  Should have overwintered them.)  I found the two varieties pictured above at Produce Junction, for a price too low to resist. (Produce Junction is a thrifty grab-bag of whatever they can pick up, fruits, veggies, plants, garden supplies--you never know week to week.) There is something fun about not knowing what pleasantly surprising plant you might find. And these Callas took my breath away.
 

 

Stewardship

Post 8

I approach writing this post with trepidation. This blog was about looking at gardening from many viewpoints, including the spiritual. Intent on avoiding  the worn out baggage of sectarianism, I wanted to show the influence of my particular spiritual tradition (liberal Episcopalian Christianity,) through implicit, rather than explicit, values and themes.  However, the pastor at our church just asked me to write a prayer about cheerful stewardship...through garden imagery. How could I resist? And how can I resist posting it here, with suitable pictures. Spirituality is an important part of the garden and several spiritual tokens are half-hidden amidst the foliage. The pictures in this post show a few of the Christian ones. Therefore, if you are offended by liberal Trinitarian Christianity, or religion in general, please stop reading this post here. I have no desire to offend any of my siblings on this earth.  But if you are not offened, thank you and read on.

"Dearest God, who created us here on this gardenearth, while putting in our hearts a perpetual longing for the lost garden of shared delight, guide us to be good stewards of both our soul’s longing and this gardenearth. As a good gardener feeds the soil, and does it with delight, let us feed our souls and gardenearth, and do so with delight.  

Guide us to do this here, to honor where we worship, to contribute where we congregate and to nourish where our hearts are open to your love.

God, Friend and fellow Gardener, thank you for letting us share our delight in your gifts, with your delight in our imperfect, but heart-felt response, through the grace of your Son Jesus Christ, and the blessings of the Holy Spirit. Amen"

The truth is, whether we like it or not, or, at whatever level, believe in the story in Genesis or not, we are stewards of this earth, our island home. It's future, our future, depends on what sort of stewards we chose to be.