Weeds on Wednesday

One of the claims of theology that has never lost its power to amaze me is that funky notion that, while we were yet sinners, the Lord of It All went out of his way to give us the gift of life, the universe, and everything.  This summer, not far behind the Father Himself comes Mother Nature.   I've been neglecting her badly this summer, and yet in spite of it all she spills over with abundant life. 

Abundant, but unruly.  We've got the oregano gone wild . . . 

 . . . and the highly verdant weed patch, strong and healthy.

 But there's also J-son's box of kale.   Even though we already harvested about half of it, it looks like we haven't taken any.  We have an amazing wealth of kale!  (Tomorrow I'm going to tell you what we did with the first harvest . . . total score).

 Next to the kale is my patch of basil.  It is apparently a very slow-growing form of basil.    Very, very slow . . .

 Please grow, basil?

But just around the corner from the Emperor's new basil is K-daughter's garden box, which is a riot of mellons, quinoa, peppers, and tomatoes.  This looks like a mess, but it's really a mosh pit of vegetable revelry.

Seen from afar, it's even more fantastic and funky.

And peeking in up close:  tomatoes!  Check 'em out while you can, because they're so delicious they don't last long around here. 

Leaving the well-loved enclave of K-daughter-dom, we return to the land of tall grasses of Weedville. 

 The weeds, they don't surprise me (in either the literal or theological sense).  I've been so focused on other things this summer that the weeds are inevitable.   But the beautiful boxes of food growing in spite of my apathy and neglect?  They're a gift of grace, breath-taking and life-giving.

wow.