Lettuces in Lent

 LETTUCES

In repurposed, plastic mushroom containers, yesterday we sowed lettuce seed; the early sowings are always the best. Come Spring a seemingly endless supply of tender, organic salad, with luck, should be coming our way.

In our context, one of extreme suffering and limitation, the well practised ritual of seed sowing, of hands in the earth, of blessing the seeds as they fall onto the compost, is desperately needed.

Ever since we both had Covid in November the garden has been a barren, sad, neglected, untidy space; piles of twigs from winter pruning, dry husks of last year’s plants that we preserve as a home for insects during the cold months, cheerless, patchy, muddy lawn, benches empty, unsat on, in need of a coat of paint.

And pouring, like tears, through every nook and cranny, the much missed presence of our beloved Corgi, who lies buried, this last 18 months, under the golden yellow Mahonia bush, that, even here in February, is buzzing with bees.

Over there, by the shed, where my wife stumbled and fell, he once rushed over, licking her face and nudging her up. A breathtakingly beautiful act of wisdom and love. Round this corner he came once, dragging himself on his stomach, because he could no longer walk, surprising us with an enormous grin.

On his last day, stoic and accepting to the end, he paused to sniff the air and gaze at the butterflies.

“Why don’t you just get another dog?” some asked. They have no idea.

Nothing here is simple or straightforward. The tiniest thing, like me passing by my wife in the wrong way, or suddenly coughing, can have tragic consequences, triggering deterioration, muscle spasms and paralysis. Ahead lies a daunting operation.

I confess, I just don’t know how we are going to deal with what we have to deal with this year.

Sometimes all you can do is sow lettuces and hope.

This is when we reach out to God and He blesses us with his light and His strength. So much needed during the often struggling dsys of Lent.