Soul Food.

I never thought I'd be a gardener.  But over the last three years, I've found a certain peace in maintaining a garden, and a ton of pride in sharing the literal fruits of my labor with my loved ones.  It's interesting; I find myself planting far more produce than I could ever eat myself.  Granted, at the time I planted I thought I'd have a family to feed.  But it feels so much better to share.

This spring I decided to break out of my little 5 ft by 5 ft patch and build a bigger garden.  I did a lot of online research and meticulously planned.  Shawn and his buddies built me 5 enormous raised beds, giving me 250 square feet of garden to play with.

And on May 16, with my mother's green thumb assisting, I planted my garden with, from left:

Green beans and sugar snap peas
Red potatoes and sweet potatoes
Watermelon and cantaloupe
Spinach, leaf lettuce, and carrots
Pumpkins and cucumbers

Outside of the garden, I planted tomatoes and bell peppers in Topsy Turvy trees, and planted strawberries in my old garden patch.

As the summer wore on, I watched with tremendous pride as the seeds germinated and grew.  I lovingly weeded out as necessary so the remaining plants could grow unhindered.  I would take periodic breaks from my work and go outside to weed or water the Topsy Turvies.  I watched bees buzz between the flowers on my pumpkins, cukes, cantaloupe, and watermelon to pollinate them and turn them into fruit. I ate beans and peas directly off the vine. I stood staring at the potato plants, wondering how the underground tubers were growing.  I could not wait to start harvesting and tasting the results.

Here we are now, nearly to the end of summer.  The tomatoes, peas, spinach, lettuce, carrots, and red potatoes have run their course...and were delicious!

I wasn't sure if the chipmunks would let me have any strawberries, but I guess I prevailed:

I have so many cucumbers, and I don't know what on earth I'm going to do with them.

Yesterday I picked two cantaloupe and five pumpkins, and more of both are on the way.  By the way, the melons are better than anything you can get in the grocery store. Period.

The green beans just keep on producing...and they are so good, when you cook them they taste like butter.

I wasn't sure that I would get any watermelon, but take a look at this. Can't wait to find out how this puppy tastes.

Listen to me, I'm like a proud mother.

This garden has given me so much more than food.  This garden has provided distraction and peace during a very difficult time in my life.  It has given me common ground and things to share with my neighbors, my family, and my friends..  It is a source of tremendous pride -- being able to nurture a seed into a beautiful and edible food is challenging, fun, and very satisfying.  My mom says I comefrom a long line of farmers, and affectionately calls me Farmer Jen.  I'm beginning to think the moniker's pretty close to the reality!

Faith vs. Superstition

On my lunch break I hopped in my car and drove over to St. Maximilan Catholic Bookstore in downtown Elk River. I asked the mild-mannered lady behind the counter if she sold "little St. Joseph statues." She asked if I was trying to sell my house, and then got up and pulled a smallish box out of a drawer behind the counter. I thought, but didn't actually say:

Are St. Joseph statues in such hot demand that you have to keep them behind the counter? I mean, who's gonna steal a little plastic statue?

I told her that I'd heard it works. She said, "Sure, if you have faith and aren't superstitious about it." Uh oh. Am I that transparent? I thought for sure I was busted. She then handed over the box, but I thought I detected some trepidation as she did so.

I took the box and commented on how cute he is. After that I thought for sure she was going to take him away from me. I hurriedly paid $8.50 and got out of there, feeling a bit like a heathen.

I found I couldn't wait to get home and meet the little statue I've affectionately nicknamed Joe.

Here's what I got for my $8.50:

I pulled Joe out of the box and discovered three small sheets of paper: An Introduction to the Saint Joseph Home Sale Practice, A Petition to St. Joseph (a prayer, basically), and the original Prayer to St. Joseph (over 1900 years old!). On the back of that last one was an address to which I could send a donation, should I graciously decide to share my good fortune with the Pious Union of St. Joseph.

I read over all the papers to see if there were any specific instructions I should follow. Finding none, I decided to bury Joe in a vacant portion of my backyard garden. I grabbed the statue, my shoes, and my camera and trekked outside.

It took me a few seconds to decide on an appropriate garden spot for Joe. I decided on the empty carrot bed, as it was closest to my house. I grabbed the garden trowel and dug a hole:

I gently placed Joe right-side up in the hole and covered him with dirt. I even remembered to mark him so I would know where to find him later:

And then, because I really want to try and be faithful rather than superstitious, I stood there next to the garden and recited aloud the Petition to St. Joseph:

Dear St. Joseph, head of the most perfect household, foster father of Jesus and guardian of His mother Mary, I confidently place myself and all my concerns under your care and protection. I ask that, through your powerful intercession with God, you obtain for me all the help and graces that I need for my spiritual and temporal welfare and in particular, the special favor I now ask: the prompt sale of my home.

Good St. Joseph, I know with confidence, that your prayers on my behalf will be heard by God, and if it is His Will, it will be done.

Thank you St. Joseph, for having responded to my call.

Amen.

I don't think any of my neighbors saw me doing this, but if they happened to look outside, they probably think I'm a little cuckoo. Okay, a lot cuckoo.

But hey. You do what you gotta do, right? Here's hoping St. Joseph heard me and decides to send a little mojo my way.

I'll Try (Almost) Anything Once.

I'm not Catholic. My dad comes from a long line of Catholics, even went to Catholic school. Me, not so much. My feelings about the Catholic church have always been complicated, even though I've never understood why. Maybe something about that dream I had as a kid where the Jesus on the crucifix turned into a big bad gorilla, and I had to hide amongst the bikes in the parking lot bike rack to keep from being eaten.

But that's an entirely different blog post.

I'm considering another brush with Catholicism as I try like hell to sell my house. That's right...St. Joseph and I are about to become good friends.

St. Joseph is the Catholic patron saint of family and household. They tell me that if I bury a 4-inch plastic statue of the guy upside-down in my yard, and then pray to him, that my house will sell quickly. Um, what?

Now, I'm not the superstitious type. Nor am I Catholic. I'm having some difficulty understanding how this could possibly work. How on earth can there be any spiritual significance to a mass-produced plastic statue that comes in a kit? I mean, really? But everyone I've talked to swears by it, including a close Jewish friend of mine who says her mom's and her grandmother's house sold after they planted St. Joseph in the yard.

That's good enough for me.

Tomorrow I'm going to swing by the local Catholic bookstore and pick me up a St. Joseph kit. I'll bring it home, bust out the garden trowel, and bury him upside-down in the yard. According to the kit's instructions, of course. And then...I'll pray.

St. Joseph, send some mojo my way.