God in the Garden

Tending the Roots of Faith, One Season at a Time

By Kimberly Knowle-Zeller

Each morning and evening, I walk to the garden. In the morning the light falls on the bird bath nestled between pepper plants—a rainbow reflecting off the water. For a few moments it’s just the birds and me, and a handful of other critters mysteriously and magically working the land. I feel the breeze on my face, droplets of water from the morning dew, and say a prayer of thanks for what grows in the darkness.

At night, I find myself again watering and whispering prayers of thanks for sun and light. I crouch down and move the squash leaf to the side to find a yellow blossom. If I peer closely enough, I see the faintest shade of black in the ripening blackberries. The cucumber and pea plants wrap themselves around poles, their vines reaching higher and higher. I breathe in the scent of fresh cut grass mixed with soil and compost.

Growth Over Seasons

This growth, this potential, and these plants brimming with life weren’t always here and weren’t necessarily a given. Every year, in Mid-May, my mind cycles through the same thoughts as I stand by my freshly weeded and planted garden: Nothing will grow.