Have you planted your garden yet? Mimi and I planted ours on Good Friday. That is a Southern tradition, laying the seed in the ground as Jesus went into the ground. Old Methodist women in Georgia taught me that. Of course the vegetables that we planted will not be ready to harvest on Easter Sunday morning, so don’t over think the metaphor. And yes, the timing of Holy Week can be at odds with recommended planting dates. It is late, for example, to be planting lettuce. But I seem to have good luck with this tradition. I’ll let you know in a few weeks. The beans in the photo are Kentucky Wonder Bush Beans. I am reminded of this stanza of the Gaelic poem “Seedtime.”
Friday, it is of blessings the day,
Drops will descend in welcome array
To every seed that in sleeping lay
Since the loveless cold arrived to stay;
Each seed its roots in the earth will grow,
As the King of nature wished it so,
With the fall of dew the braird will show,
Drawing its life when the soft winds blow.*
(A braird is the first green shoots of grasses and crops.)
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On Holy Saturday I baked bread, another rising of life. On Easter Sunday night we had roasted leg of lamb, a family tradition. We buy Kansas grown meats and this cut was not only delicious but also tender.
The lilacs, tulips, and jonquils are all in bloom. The trees have taken on those tender light green leaves. Saturday I saw my first blue bird of the season and scissors tailed flycatcher. I have also seen a lot of turkeys in the last few weeks and the ring-necked pheasants are calling from the prairie across the road.
Resurrection is all around us.
*(Seedtime is from a collection of Celtic Spiritual Verse from the Gaelic, gathered and translated by G.R.D. McLean, The Pilgrim Press.)
