Seeds of Abundance

Last year I planted wildflowers. The seeds came in one of those convenient little salt shaker type containers, promising an abundance of flowers by midsummer ... a veritable “meadow in a can!" It looked easy, so I bought two cans. (If one can gives you a meadow, then two cans could only mean double happiness!) There I stood in May, shaking and spreading seeds like a baker sprinkles confectioner’s sugar on a Bundt cake. And I waited for my meadow to appear. By June I had sprouts ... thousands of them. By July, a meadow had appeared in Lawrenceville. And by August, when I could no longer see the bird bath, the garden statues, or the lawn furniture, I realized that too much of a good thing can cause big problems. This year I planted nasturtiums. They’re a little better behaved. I learned an important message of “garden prudence” that can be applied to every day life: only sow seeds that can be managed - seeds of kindness and love. Ignore those which can quickly multiply and cause large problems down the road - seeds of gossip and greed, seeds of negativity. And pray to St. Anthony when you lose your fig tree.

The Garden Saints

St. Anthony of Padua (June 13), is usually depicted with the Child Jesus. Scripture this weekend teaches us that true faith yields a harvest of abundance. Most of us pray to St. Anthony to help us locate something we’ve lost, which is the reason why I placed a statue of the saint in my own garden ... he once helped me to locate a fig tree I had buried two winters ago! Since St. Anthony is commonly shown holding a lily, statues of him can also be found among those pure white flowers which bloom in June, the month of his feast day.

Seeds of Tranquility

While away on my recent vacation to the Jersey shore I visited a popular landmark, the Hereford Lighthouse. It stands at the northern end of Wildwood at the top of a sea wall. I spent many mornings walking there at sunrise. With each rotation of its light, Hereford Lighthouse warns mariners of the dangers of the impending shallow waters and the rocks below. On the west side of the structure is a very large cottage garden which has long been a place of tranquility and peace for visitors. I’ve always considered it a privilege to meander through this paradise of annuals, perennials, and herbs, while listening to the ocean and watching birds and squirrels nest in the branches of the many trees that border the gardens. At the end of one of the garden’s hidden paths stands a statue of St. Francis of Assisi, with his arms outstretched in welcome. He seems to know his mission is to offer repose. Stormy seas may whirl below, but peace and tranquility reign here. We can take inspiration from this paradox. Amidst the storms of life, not far from the shoals, there exists a peace … and a piece of heaven. Maybe by exploring a new or hidden path, we can find it!

The Garden Saints

St. Francis of Assisi (October 4) is probably best known for his patronage of animals and the environment. Most gardens have a statue depicting the likeness of the peaceful saint in their gardens. His serene nature has inspired poetry, songs and prayers to be written about him. His own prayer-song, “The Canticle of the Sun” expresses his own brotherhood with all of God’s creation.

Seeds of Simplicity

Daisies “tell it like it is.” There is no pretense about them. They are a common plant, often overlooked in favor of more “showy” flowers. They can be found in peaceful meadows, along busy highways and even growing among tall weeds in vacant lots. But to truly appreciate a daisy, you must understand its simplicity. Each petal resembles a simple teardrop, opening at sunrise and closing at sunset. They do not need much to flourish - just soil, water, and sunlight. When a blossom is done, it wilts and drops, allowing energy to be channeled to the new blossoms. We too, can learn from the wisdom of the simple daisy. Trimming away the dead blossoms of our crowded lives can only serve to allow us more energy to concentrate on that which really matters. Consider the Gospel’s message this week: simplify and travel light!

The Garden Saints

St. Phocas (July 3), the patron saint of ornamental gardening, was a gardener and martyr who lived in Sinope, Turkey, on the coast of the Black Sea during the time of the Emperor Diocletian who ruled the eastern part of the Roman Empire. Phocas raised crops and aided Christians who were undergoing persecution. It is said that he was once visited by soldiers who were sent to execute him. Not knowing it was he whom they encountered, they accepted his hospitality. Phocas offered to help them find whom they were searching for in the morning. During the night, Phocas dug a grave knowing it would become his own very soon. When the soldiers awoke, Phocas revealed his true identity and accepted his fate. During his life, Phocas tilled the earth generously, feeding those less fortunate than he.

Don’t Sweat the Weeds

“A weed is no more than a flower in disguise, which is seen through at once, if love give a man eyes.”

- James Russell Lowell

In May a strange looking plant appeared in a section of my garden. I watched it closely with anticipation, hoping it was some exotic flower deposited by a bird or the wind. Last week it finally bloomed. It resembled a cone flower in size, and possessed a quality not unlike a daisy. Curious about the name, I looked it up in every garden dictionary but I was unable to put a name to it. Two days after it bloomed, I figured it out when the beautiful flower I had admired turned into a large, fluffy puff ball. My exotic flower was a weed! I was ready to give it a good yank when I realized that this weed brought joy and excitement to an otherwise predictable blooming spot in my garden. And so, that is why I left it to grow there, among my other flowers, reminding me to appreciate even the occasional weed thrown into life’s garden.

The Garden Saints

St. Fiacre (7th Cent. - Aug. 31/Sept. 1) is recognized as the patron saint of gardeners, florists, and cab drivers. Often mistaken for St. Francis of Assisi, he is pictured with a shovel, and stands as a sentinel over the flowers and crops that he guards. Raised in a monastery, he became a skillful user of medicinal herbs and as his talents became known, people flocked to him for healing. After his death in 670 A.D., visitors to the monastery claimed it had healing powers. A shrine in Breuil, France was erected in his honor, making it a destination spot for pilgrims.

Seeds of Wisdom

It has been said that anything worth learning can be gleaned from a garden. Flowers are an ancient species, many of which date back millions of years. They have figured it out: how to survive, how to thrive, and how to use best what nature’s elements dish out. Consider the wisdom of the rose: it knows when to wake, when to stretch out its branches and take on new growth, when to bloom and when to go dormant. In winter it rests, so that in late spring it can burst with an abundance of blooms, sharing its aromatic fragrance with the world. Then, dropping its spent blossoms, it takes a siesta to gather energy for the next show. We too, can take a lesson from the rose. Summer is siesta time; to relax, to repose, to recreate. This week I will join my family for a timeout at the Jersey Shore. Like the rose, I plan on going dormant in order to gather energy for the next blooming season. “Thank you!” to fellow musicians Judene Indovina and Tom Reinsel for filling in for me while I’m away. Thanks for allowing me time to stop and smell the roses!

The Garden Saints

St. Elizabeth of Hungary (13th century), the patron saint of roses and rosarians and feast day on November 17, lived only for a short time, but is known as one of the most pious women to ever exist. The daughter of King Andrew of Hungary, she was born a princess, yet spent her life in humble service of the Lord, performing works of charity and self-sacrifice. Because of this, Elizabeth is also known as the patron saint of nurses. Though she held a compassion for the poor, because she was of royal heritage her dedication was opposed by some in the royal court. Once, when taking food to the poor and sick the king stopped her to see what she was carrying. Immediately, the food under her mantle miraculously changed to roses. She continued the role of humble servant, caring for the poor during her short life of just 25 years.