Experiencing Nature in Warren County, Indiana 2

When I was in high school, my family lived a couple of miles southeast of Pine Village, Indiana. Across the gravel road were open fields, but a small group of trees broke the level line of the horizon. I yearned to investigate them, yet I felt constrained by the sense that I might be trespassing on neighbor Agnes Moore’s farm. If I were to ask her permission to walk among the trees, she would wonder why I asked. I kept denying myself the opportunity to visit the copse, until a day arrived when I indulged my curiosity.

At the Entrance to the Copse

Drawing by H. Bolton Jones (1848–1927)

Engraved by Robert Hoskin (1842–?)

In The Closing Scene

Philadelphia, J. B. Lippincott Co., 1887

Sneaking across the road, down through the shallow ditch, and over the freshly plowed surface of the field, I nervously glanced from side to side. Neighbors could be seeing me, it seemed—when, in all likelihood, no one saw me. The nearest of our neighbors occupied farmhouses spread far apart along the road. Out of breath from the exertion of scurrying through plowed ground, I dashed through the verge of last year’s weedy growth and plunged into the darkness of the wooded area.

It was as circular as if measured by a surveyor. It sloped ever so gently toward the middle and may have been a ten-acre sinkhole or, at least, a damp saucer-shaped depression formed by an underground spring. The trees were a mixture of willows and cottonwoods. A few of the latter variety boasted enormous trunks. The limbs formed only a partial shade, as they were just leafing out. The tiny wildflowers called “spring beauties” carpeted the ground among the roots.

Then I came upon a circle of cardinal feathers. They may have been left by a farm cat, but they formed such an exact circle with every feather perfectly placed! I felt a sense of awe. It was as if I were seeing a symbol left where nobody would see it, yet I had stumbled upon it. What was its meaning? The experience was spiritual, although I cannot define what I mean by “spiritual,” no matter how “spiritual” it indeed was. The red tufts fairly glowed among the willows.

I quietly withdrew. Long after my moment in the woods, I regarded the spot from afar and considered it an example of the Creator’s attention to detail.  

Gardening 1

“ … Mr. Collins invited them to take a stroll in the garden, which was large and well laid out, and to the cultivation of which he attended himself. To work in this garden was one of his most respectable pleasures … .”

      —Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen

I can hardly believe that the year has rolled around and I am back in my vegetable garden again. I share Mr. Collins’ respectable pleasure. While my garden is not large, I hope it is well laid out. I planted on April 20th. Steve, who plows my garden, had worked the soil into velvety smoothness. I felt that this year’s garden would be better than those of the past two years. My intuition was justified. Most of the seeds sprouted, and I could see that the garden was indeed better—at least for now!

Garden Ready for Planting on April 20, 2016

Gardening appeals to many senses at once. Occasional breezes lift my straw hat and carry it cartwheeling on its brim while I chase it, brush it off, and push it down on my forehead as tightly as possible. Robins, cardinals, song sparrows, and catbirds sing. Canada geese suddenly honk overhead and fly so low that I hear the whistling of their wings. The heady aroma of honeysuckle and the sweetness of the iris intermingle. The scent of the iris is elusive: sweet at first with an indefinable hint of sourness as the flowers are nearing the end of their bloom cycle. The mowed lawn stretching away from the garden is a golden green, more perfect than I can remember during the dark winter months.

Mission Accomplished: Garden Planted on April 20, 2016

Those who recall my blogs from a year ago know that I plant lettuce, beets, carrots, onions, potatoes, bush beans, squash, and flowers. I avoid corn because it takes up too much room and is such a beacon to raccoons that, when I have grown it, I have had to surround the garden with an electric fence. I prefer no fence.

This year, I have planted flowers on the western, northern, and eastern borders of my garden but not on the southern edge, which I have left open so that plenty of sunlight can reach the vegetable rows that run north and south. In the past two years, my flowers have been so thick along the southern boundary that they have shaded the rows. Also, I have planted fewer squash seeds than ever before. I hope to avoid being overwhelmed with so many squashes that I must hurl the majority of them into the brush on the hill above my creek.

I cultivate my garden with a plow consisting of a wooden frame, a single iron wheel, and five small plow shears in a cluster. Although, at first, the temptation to pull weeds from within the rows was strong, I avoided it for several weeks because lifting out the weeds would undoubtedly disturb too many of the vegetable seedlings.

Few experiences in my life are so hopeful as gardening. Each hour spent working with my plants encourages me to envision dinners to come, and nothing tastes better than vegetables fresh from the garden!