The garden in mid-June

"As long as the earth endures, seedtime and harvest, cold and heat, summer and winter, day and night, shall not cease." — Genesis 8:22

The garden has entered the part of June where it needs me every day and I have accepted this.

I was out there before seven with the hose, which is the only way to water now because the rain has not come in over a week and the ground is dry an inch down. The tomatoes want water in the morning, not the afternoon, and I have learned the hard way what happens when you water tomatoes in the heat of the day, which is nothing good.

The roses are open. All of them, the whole row along the side of the house, red and pink and one pale yellow that I do not remember planting but that has been there for years. They are at their best right now and they will not be at their best for long, and there is something in me that wants to stand in front of them and say stay like this, but the garden does not take instructions from me and I have come to appreciate this about the garden.

The daylilies along the fence are in full. The volunteer tomato from the compost pile has put out blossoms, which means it is planning on giving me something, and I am willing to wait and see what.

Biscuit came out to the porch while I was watering and watched me from the shade. He has no interest in the garden except as a vantage point from which to observe my efforts. He was panting by seven-thirty. It is going to be hot today.

The garden in mid-June is a different thing than the garden in late May. In late May I was worried. Now I am just trying to keep up.

Lord, the garden does not need my worry. Neither do I.

Ruby keeps a collection of prayers at her kitchen table. You can find them here.