Waiting for Christmas In My Garden

Waiting for Christmas in My Garden

Early each day I walk to my garden. With a teamug on hand, I scout for
poor young worms feasting on vegetables. I crush them. Not all of them
though. I'm no freak. But I want some veggies on my table too. I don't
like the idea but I have no choice.

Each day too, I take an appreciating look at the pine trees. Always
there, assuring that the world will forever be green. It is a dying
hope though, what with all the deforestation going on. But hope has
given to more hope in the past. It is happening over and over again.

Beyond the garden bunds, trobadour Jiminy crickets take a crack at the
last dusk before it is swallowed by day. They are drowned by several
birds of many kinds. It is a welcome sound.

This garden (I have several) is about 400 square meters located 50
meters from the house. Alnus japonica or what most know as Alnus,
provides shade, spreading scads of broad, hard, green leaves. Before
the garden is a huge house (as big as a local municipal building) owned
by one they call (DE) district engineer, but one who is a plain crook
to me.

I love the garden, and with the onset of every summer, I find myself
working in it constantly. There is much to be done: Weeds need to be
pulled, leaves need to be raked, dead plants need to be carted off and
piled into a compost, seeds to sow, seedlings to prick and tons more o
f
work that leave you b
athing in your sweat but feeling contented every
end of the day.

All of this—the weeding, the planting, even my interest in the garden
itself—has taken me a bit by surprise. I always had a garden before,
and always thought of myself as the gardening type. But at my age (49)
I enjoy it better. Although writing has taken years of my life.

Long rows of Sadanga sitting beans with lush leaves and heavy pods
await to be harvested. And beside them are four rows of "kalbo-oy"
sweet potato, known to be the best in the Cordillera. I have round
eggplants, red, yellow and green chillies, gray and golden suchinnis,
and red and green lettuce.

Beyond the veggies are thousands of petroleum nut trees and Calliandra
calothyrsus nitrogen fixing trees. All around are gold and yellow
marigolds that ward off most insect pests. I have grape-type red
tomatoes as well as cherry ones. These have more lycopene, commanding
three dollars a kilo in the market. But I never sell them. I give them
away to whoever asks for some.

I like sitting on the grass to watch the plants grow because it gives
me hope that tomorrow is always a better day. And as hope gives more
hope, the coming Christmas should be no different. As Christians
celebrate the fake birthday of Jesus, we are given hope once again that
God's gift --Jesus-- would make us grow to be better every day. That in
t
his world reeking with apathy, love alone could awaken love.



And like every morning in a garden, we have a new life. A gift given
again and again. This morning, this blessed morning, should be an
every Christmas morning.

Michael Bengwayan