Up to our ears
We began the summer with a small and quickly waning stash of veggies from back in 2015. And a deep freezer filled with nothing edible.
Knowing how grave the need, we meticulously planned garden size and placement. We planted on time and made very stern resolutions to take tender and vigilant and constant care of this garden.
Because the alternative of eating waxy tin-can beans from Kroger is enough to ruin one's attitude.
Then it rained. Exactly what you want to happen after planting. It rained more and more and more. Then a little more. Furrows and clay and massive puddles appeared. Sprouts did not, at least on the normal schedule.
They did eventually come up, though the torrents of rain had redeposited many of the seeds wherever they very well pleased. Still, we rubbed our hands together in excitement and anticipation of the work and reward.
The tiller did two rows before it gave out.
Trey and I grabbed our hoes and spent weeks upon weeks hours upon hours, blood blister over blood blister, pampering the plants and scowling at the weeds.
It became too much so that, at least in the rows between the plants, we decided to white flag it and let the weed eater just make us a grass path.
Weed eater wouldn't start. And so the weeds grew.
Got the tiller fixed. It did two more rows before it gave out again. And so the weeds grew.
But.
For a solid month now, we have been bringing buckets upon buckets of everything into our house. Green beans, tomatoes, squash, zucchini, cucumbers, black eyed peas, grape tomatoes, and corn.
We've eaten them like they're going out of style.
We've canned around 50 quarts of beans and frozen around 100 ears of corn.
And we've probably given away more than we've preserved for ourselves.
Besides all these veggie heroes thriving through the weeds, they have also been surviving a drought. Lookie here:
Those photos were taken on July 14 and July 18, two separate harvests, four days apart, after probably two weeks of no rain.
We have prayed and prayed and prayed for rain. Went to the creek twice for water and, to keep with the theme of the summer, the pump wouldn't start either time.
All the while, the Lord is whispering to me, "You're trying too hard. I will take care of you."
Then this happened, just hours after yesterday's haul from the garden.
Rain, our first in a long time, complete with a rainbow.
In spite of how we think things should go, He is blessing.
As He always does.
Knowing how grave the need, we meticulously planned garden size and placement. We planted on time and made very stern resolutions to take tender and vigilant and constant care of this garden.
Because the alternative of eating waxy tin-can beans from Kroger is enough to ruin one's attitude.
Then it rained. Exactly what you want to happen after planting. It rained more and more and more. Then a little more. Furrows and clay and massive puddles appeared. Sprouts did not, at least on the normal schedule.
They did eventually come up, though the torrents of rain had redeposited many of the seeds wherever they very well pleased. Still, we rubbed our hands together in excitement and anticipation of the work and reward.
The tiller did two rows before it gave out.
Trey and I grabbed our hoes and spent weeks upon weeks hours upon hours, blood blister over blood blister, pampering the plants and scowling at the weeds.
It became too much so that, at least in the rows between the plants, we decided to white flag it and let the weed eater just make us a grass path.
Weed eater wouldn't start. And so the weeds grew.
Got the tiller fixed. It did two more rows before it gave out again. And so the weeds grew.
But.
For a solid month now, we have been bringing buckets upon buckets of everything into our house. Green beans, tomatoes, squash, zucchini, cucumbers, black eyed peas, grape tomatoes, and corn.
We've eaten them like they're going out of style.
We've canned around 50 quarts of beans and frozen around 100 ears of corn.
And we've probably given away more than we've preserved for ourselves.
Besides all these veggie heroes thriving through the weeds, they have also been surviving a drought. Lookie here:
Those photos were taken on July 14 and July 18, two separate harvests, four days apart, after probably two weeks of no rain.
We have prayed and prayed and prayed for rain. Went to the creek twice for water and, to keep with the theme of the summer, the pump wouldn't start either time.
All the while, the Lord is whispering to me, "You're trying too hard. I will take care of you."
Then this happened, just hours after yesterday's haul from the garden.
Rain, our first in a long time, complete with a rainbow.
In spite of how we think things should go, He is blessing.
As He always does.
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