It is over. What is over?
Nay, how much is over truly.
Harvest days we toiled to so for;
Now the sheaves are gathered newly,
Now the wheat is gathered duly.
It is finished. What is finished?
Much is finished known or unknown;
Was the fallow field left unsown?
Will these buds be always unblown?
It suffices. What suffices?
All suffices reckoned rightly;
Spring shall bloom where now the ice is,
Roses make the bramble slightly,
And the quickening sun shine brightly,
And the latter wind blow lightly,
And my garden teem with spices.
by Christina Georgina Rossetti. We celebrated her feast day from "Holy Women Holy Men" last week, and reflected on the text of her beautiful hymns in the Episcopal 1982 Hymnal (On A Bleak Midwinter, for example).
I am thinking about gardening. In part because we blessed the church garden last Saturday. I enjoyed the process of doing research on Rogation Day and creating a liturgy for blessing the garden. I have planted some produce in the garden, but it is struggling - my lettuce has yet to take hold and rebound from being transplanted...and the fluctuating temperatures have not helped - warm and then too cold. Oh well. I can always plant more. Soon I hope to add the rest of my crops to the garden and plant some herbs in the flower pots we've put on the deck.
I've been here one year. A year ago May 2 was my first day in the office. It's been a good year. No doubt gardening is a good metaphor for the year. Amen.