Weeds and Whimsy

what I'm filling up on these days

I planted numerous packets of sunflowers, zinnias and sugar snap peas this past spring. Multiple times when they failed to pop up out of the soil, I’d push my index finger back into the earth and drop seeds into the hole again, determined to see colorful blooms and bobbing sunflower heads swaying in the late summer breeze. I watered and waited and watched and imagined the growth.

Only one zinnia appeared, zero snap peas (minus what my children planted in our potato garden), and five stalks out of the dozens of sunflowers grew up over my head.

My green thumb turned gray as I whispered “uncle” into the wind.

I’m not much of a gardener and never have been. Though I have lofty daydreams of the type of flower garden that welcomes people in with stems of various heights and colors strategically placed near moss covered rocks. And of neatly arranged rows of vegetables that would make even Mr. McGregor envious! And no weeds, there’s never any weeds in my fantasy garden.

In late May we typically plant rows upon rows of potatoes to be tucked away in our cool, dark basement for the winter. Those we can grow and grow well! Hoeing potato hills in spring will forever spark a core childhood memory for me. The feel of dry earth between bare toes and the restored faith in a sun that shines warm on my back after a long spell of cold, white skies.

Did I fail this gardening season? Probably. But I do have that one zinnia that produced 15-plus golden blooms, and the cosmos that took hold when scattered between weeds in the potato garden with their delicate papery-thin petals - I’ve cut and placed those in mason jars around the house. And as always, we have the white potatoes to fill our bellies this fall. Maybe next year I’ll try again with more fertilizer in hand and hope on my sleeve.

I’ve been let down before, have you? There are things in this life that stretch us out thin and ragged, sorrows that come unexpected, betrayal that T-bones our breakable hearts unfairly, and gardens with more weeds than whimsy.

I shared some heartfelt thoughts with my husband recently and he listened hard. Without moving his mouth, he nodded small and knowingly, “We’re fragile” he said. I felt understood and able to settle again with a cup of hot black tea.

The hardness of life can shake our spirit more than we’d like to admit and without the steadfast assurance of a God who looks on with care, the risk of being overcome by it seems almost inescapable.

Combating the darkness can feel like an outright battle some days - and how do we strike back at it and win? I believe it’s much to do with the filling of our minds and hearts. Oh, the trouble we put ourselves through when steeping in a perpetual scroll of media and stories void of goodness. Are we that obsessed with bad news? Or is no one willing to tell a good tale? Can we shift our minds to what’s beautiful and true as the apostle Paul instructs in Ephesians? (4:8) Can we fill up on nobility and be the better for it? It takes a brave soul to give goodness a go!

What I’m filling up these days:

I’m filling baskets with books that inspire beauty. Filling calendars with last concerts in the park before the leaves cover the ground. Filling jars with purple loosestrife from ditches and the last of the black-eyed Susan’s from the field behind our house. Filling new sneakers with clean socks and drawers with button down sweaters. Filling tummies with homemade bread and creamy tortellini soup. Filling the school cart with pencils and unused lined notebooks. I’m filling up on all that’s good and holy, and I pray it bursts our hearts open to the outside world. But first to each of us under our red, tin roof who squeeze from the same tube of toothpaste at bedtime and pour from the one electric tea kettle in the mornings. Everything grand starts first with an openhanded generosity at home.

I’m a candle maker. Doesn’t that sound jolly? In the fall and winter months I dip dozens of taper candles to be sold at little folk stores around my town. It’s quiet work which I recently learned will always be the way I sway through life. Growing up in a log cabin built by my parents, surrounded by fields, forests and cow pasture, I was the youngest of three children and the only one schooled at home. We lived on a back country road that in wintertime was unfrequented enough to race our sleds right down the middle of it!

We lit candles on side tables and in chandeliers overhead at dinner hour. We listened to Thistle and Shamrock on NCPR radio on Sunday evenings and played back-to-back games of capture the flag with our tiny church youth group. The wind blew wild through our opened windows, and I learned to sing along with my mom playing, “take me home, country road” on her guitar.

All of this imprinted slow, quiet living into my own heart and now I kinda just need quiet (as much as one can get it living with 6 other opinionated persons). Dipping candles in my kitchen whilst teens and youngsters slather Mayo on bread and leave the refrigerator door ajar isn’t exactly quiet, but like the waves of the ocean are my children. One comes in, another goes out, and so on. There are moments of quiet, and I think there’s great benefit in my children seeing me work silently with my hands.

A Recipe:

We make a kind of shepherd’s pie that satisfies pallet and pangs (and if I’m going with the P theme, I’d also add it’s gentle on the pocketbook too!) it’s a family recipe we call Barney Delight but I recently learned it’s actually considered a Cottage pie (rather than Shepherd’s) as these are typically made with beef rather than lamb. Cottage pie has a bit of charm to it in my mind anyway so without further ado -

My Cottage pie recipe (AKA Barney Delight):

Ingredients:

1 lb. ground beef

1 can cut green beans (frozen works too)

1 10oz. can tomato soup

boiled and mashed potatoes (just how you’d whip them up with butter and milk)

Preheat oven to 350.

Brown beef in pan, drain grease but leave a little for flavor. Add drained green beans and can of tomato soup. Stir together and warm on stove slightly.

Prepare mashed potatoes with butter, milk, salt and pepper.

In a casserole dish (or if doubling a cake pan works great!) Place the beef mixture in the bottom of the dish and top with whipped potatoes. Dot with butter and bake until the potatoes look golden brown and the tomato soup is bubbling up.

Add freshly grated parmesan cheese for a bit more flavor if desired.

Feast and enjoy!

Lastly, let me share with you a very cozy collection of autumn folk/Celtic songs my daughter created. I love to bake while letting it play in the background or during Friday night pizza festivities! I do hope you enjoy it!

As always, I pray your heart is lifted, your eyes set on the things above and your arms opened wide to those around you!

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