There’s Gotta Be Dirt in Heaven
There’s Gotta Be Dirt in Heaven
It’s no surprise, really, that most of us love digging in the dirt with an aim toward making good things grow. It’s been part of human DNA at least as far back as 650 BCE, when the Hanging Gardens started, well . . . hanging! Aristotle’s successor, Theophrastus, was one of the first to write about things botanical, laying the groundwork for future gardeners like Pliny the Elder and Pliny the Younger. Wealthy Egyptians and Romans alike grew gardens that sheltered them from the heat of the sun, and at Monticello, Thomas Jefferson left many of his neighbors green with envy as he produced perfect species of fruit, flowers, and vegetables.
My kids and grandkids have knelt beside me, learning lessons about science and nature and the abundant beauty that comes from an investment of time, patience, and tender loving care. Neighbors have shared cuttings with me, and I’ve passed my own to those who’ve spread the ripening wealth with others, carrying on a gardening tradition that’s centuries old. Arlo Guthrie, John Denver, and Carrie JacobsBond have penned notes and lyrics praising the garden. Movie titles like Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil and novels like The Savage Garden were inspired by—you guessed it . . . a garden!
I’ve done my share of happy humming and plot weaving while in my gardens. And, like my illustrious predecessors, I’m no stranger to broken fingernails and ground in soil on my hands, knees, and clothing. And I’m sure that, like every famous gardener before me, pride in my hard earned, sweaty filth is surpassed only by my proud preening over stellar sprigs and sprouts that are the direct result of my careful cultivations.
But over the years, what I’ve grown in my gardens pales in comparison to what I’ve taken from them. To be sure, aromatic blossoms and edible delicacies have gladdened me, my family, friends, and neighbors, but it’s the peace and tranquility found amid those dazzling colors and heavenly fragrances that draw me back day after day. Heart hurts and soul sorrows heal out there under the brilliant glow of the day star! My worries are buried with every seed and root ball, forgotten as I prune and pluck, trim and tuck; though my original goal might have been to bring about beautiful shapes and smells, gardening is the balm that cures my cares.
Some believe that God and his angels dwell on high, where cherubim dance and seraphim sing amid golden thrones and thick whiffs of white clouds, but I contend that heaven is where the Almighty and his minions go after they’ve labored alongside his faithful followers in gardens found around the world.
We humans started out in a garden, after all, so it’s not so far fetched to expect that when we draw our last breaths, we’ll find ourselves surrounded by the simplicity and grace of a peaceful garden.
There’s gotta be dirt in heaven, and I can’t think of a more savory or satisfying end!
excerpted from Ultimate Gardener, HCI copyright 2009
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