Have you ever thought to yourself, “Life seems to make sense when I’m gardening!”? Of course you have. Denying it is a case in futility. Every time your fingers fondle the soil your endorphins somersault like a flea on the carcass of your pet canine and the smile zipping across the creases of your lips purges any hint of pessimism. “A pig in mud” is one term coined to described the experience.
For the uninitiated, this emotive nuance may seem like a passing nicety – like feeling a soft, cool breeze press upon your cheek on a sweltering afternoon. But that’s for the uninitiated. Those who have been tilling the ground for as long as they can remember realise there’s a deeper call occuring. A call that has been echoing through time immortal.
As a creationist – go figure! – I’ve come to realise that that innate longing to participate with nature has been nurtured from the beginning. The Genesis story which concludes with the creation of humankind mandates that our life task – the pre-eminent destiny – was to … “TEND THE GARDEN”.
Our lifestyle. Our food resource. Our daily chore.