Wick

When a thing is wick, it has a life about it.
Now, maybe not a life like you and me.
But somewhere there's a single streak of green inside it.
Come, and let me show you what I mean.
--from The Secret Garden (lyrics by Marsha Norman)


   A week after planting my strawberries in starter pots (and plastic cups) I found myself looking for signs of life. The ones I planted in the cups (first batch) mostly had green leaves when I planted them. The ones I put in the bio-degradable pots (second batch) with Miracle-Gro potting soil, on the other hand, were an exercise in hope. They looked pretty far gone. And after a week, there were no signs of life in them. 
   The ones in the plastic cups, on the other hand, had changed dramatically.  They had seemingly died. 
   I attributed that to the soil and to the container, which didn't let air in or water out. I went through them carefully looking for any signs of life-a live leaf, a shoot of green, even some fuzz that didn't seem to be too brown.  Those that offered hope I transplanted into the bio-degradable pots with the Miracle-Gro, replacing the plants that clearly were beyond saving.  I tried to shake off all the inferior soil and replant them carefully to give them the best chance of life.
   In the end, I trashed all the second batch (put them in the compost, actually) and re-potted all the first batch, even though some of them showed little or no sign of life.  Eight of them looked to survive, while the rest were again an exercise in hope.
   Each day I checked them, watered them if needed, and looked for that single streak of green. Now after a week four or five more are wick, and I'm giving the others a chance to prove themselves. I eagerly look forward to checking them every day, amazed at the miracle of life within them, astounded that they have come back from seeming death.
   It's kind of that way with people. Now and then I run into people who seem to be zombies-the living dead. They have a pulse, they hold down a job, they even smile from time to time. But the signs of life are weak. Perhaps they've been beaten into submission by the circumstances of their lives or by others around them who have slowly-or even all at once-drained the life out of them. Perhaps they've made destructive choices, betrayed the divinity within them.
   What they don't seem to have is purpose, direction, hope, faith.
   And yet, if you look closely enough, over a period of time, nurturing and caring for them with friendly interactions and supportive words and deeds, you may just catch a fleeting glimpse of green inside and realize that they are wick after all.


When a thing is wick, it has a light around it.
Maybe not a light that you can see.
But hiding down below a spark's asleep inside it,
Waiting for the right time to be seen.


   If you care to, and if they permit you, you can help clear away the dead things and nurse them back to life.  It isn't always easy, and not every one revives, but when they do, it's one of the most rewarding experiences I've ever had.
   When we engage in that kind of gardening, we are doing God's work, and He can provide a joy that passes understanding. If we are wick with that light, we may gain Eternal Life.

Berry Late

   I finally got my strawberries planted. Well, at least in starter pots. I ordered the berries from a mail order nursery, because the write-ups in the online catalog made these varieties seem much better than those available at local stores. And the price was appealing.
   We had strawberries in Utah, when we lived there, but they were a small variety, and not very firm. They produced plentifully, but the children tended to eat them as soon as they were ripe. And really, they didn't keep well anyway. I wanted better this time. So I ordered two varieties that are supposed to be large and meaty, but tasty. One is an early bearer and the other is supposed to produce throughout the summer.

   When the shipment arrived, I was surprised to find that I had two plastic bags of roots. Before I placed the order, I called their customer service line to ask how they would come, but nothing prepared me for what I received. In each bag appeared to be a bundle of brown tendrils bound together with a rubber band. I began to second guess my decision to order them, especially since right afterwards I began to see large strawberry plants available at the local nurseries and box stores, some of them with blossoms on them already.

   Even then, I didn't plant them. I was still waiting on retaining wall block for my last planting box (all the block seems to be back-ordered around here). I left the roots in the bags, thinking I would plant them very soon. After about a week, I noticed that they began to grow leaves inside the bag, and the moisture was condensing on the inside of the bag, so I thought they would be alright. And still I didn't get the planting box finished. (It didn't help that we had about a week of rain.)
   Then I noticed one day that the leaves were gone, and I worried that I had let my strawberry roots die. So at my first opportunity, I got some plastic cups, put some soil in them, and planted one bag of the roots in them. Since I ran out of cups, I had to go to the store, and there I found some biodegradable starter pots, which I purchased for the other bag of roots. I also remembered reading that you shouldn't plant strawberries where you've previously had tomatoes or peppers, because they cause the soil to rot the strawberry roots. The soil I had used came from the box where I had tomatoes last year, so I bought some potting soil and planted the second batch in that.

   Now my planting box is still not ready, and the plants don't seem to be doing well. The second batch don't appear to have any life left in them at all, and the first batch I'll have to replant in proper starter pots with potting soil. A few of them have green leaves, but I think I may have killed 45 of the 50 plants.
   It didn't ease my pain to finally find the instructions of how to care for them if I wasn't going to plant them immediately. I had looked for something like that when I received the box, but didn't find it at the time. Now I found it, and learned that I should have opened the bag and poured water in every other day.
   Really, I should have just planted them in the starter pots from the beginning. It seems pretty late in the season now, and I may have missed my window of opportunity for this year.
   As a curious aside, while I was sitting on the driveway planting them, with my youngest two children playing nearby and helping me, two Jehovah's Witness women came by and struck up a conversation with me. I was not interested in their message, but in general I do admire their fervor and commitment in that faith. So I talked with them while I sat there and continued working. I took the opportunity to share my faith and testimony with them, and though neither convinced the other, I think we were all enriched by the encounter. The most important part for me was to demonstrate for my children respect for others and testifying of the truths I know when the opportunity arises.
   After all, it's not only fruits and vegetables I'm trying to raise well.

Peach Schemes

   When we found this house, one of the things that really appealed to me was a spacious backyard with lots of mature trees.  I was also pleasantly surprised to find, tucked under the bigger trees, two peach trees. I cleared away all the brush and brambles, and cut away a few branches to give these peach trees more sunshine.  Then, last spring they blossomed beautifully and I was pleased to see lots of small peaches growing.  There were so many that I knew I would have to do some serious thinning, but I wanted them to get about an inch long so I could tell which ones were more viable.
   One day there were bunches, and I knew I would have to get out there soon, and the next time I checked, there were only a handful of young peaches left on the trees.  I thought perhaps a recent storm had blown them off, but couldn't find any on the ground.  Anyhow, the thinning job was no longer necessary.  The next time I came out, I discovered there were no peaches left at all on the tree.  How could that be?  I finally determined that it must have been the squirrels who stole them all away.  I didn't think the birds had done it.  

   This year I was determined to get a good crop of peaches.  Now, even though Georgia is the peach state, I don't know anyone here in Northern Georgia who has had any luck with their peach trees in their yards.  I'm told they always lose the crop to "brown rot," whatever that is.  (See how I betray my inexperience?)  Thing is, I've never seen brown rot on the tree, because the peaches never lasted long enough to get it.  So I figured one thing at a time, right?  Protect them from the squirrels first.

   I decided to wrap the trunks in something that the squirrels couldn't climb.  I checked at the big box stores, and no one was any help.  Apparently people don't generally go looking there for something like this.  I finally found some aluminum flashing that might work.  I have now put that flashing around the trunks of the trees.  On one of them I was able to put it to four feet high (the estimated jumping ability of most squirrels, from what I've read).  The other branches out lower than that, so it only goes two feet high.
   So far so good.  I enjoy looking out at the trees and seeing my efforts manifest plainly.  Only time will tell whether my efforts bear fruit (sorry; couldn't help it).  I'll let you know.