Winter Is Always Forced to Give Birth to Spring

Last night my wife and I planted 32 tomato plants indoors that will, in just two months, be lapping up the sun and rain of Spring.

Yet it was about twenty degrees outside while we were planting.  There was (and still is) over four inches of snow on the ground.  Wind gusts were rolling empty trash cans down the block and car doors blew open.

It’s still Winter outside.

But it’s Spring inside.

In Lent comes our focus on our mortality.  Winter oppresses our minds with the inevitability of death.  Death by cold and darkness.  Death without light or warmth.

Winter is a depressing duldrum when the wind blows and it’s too cold to play in the snow.  I venture to say that if snow wasn’t white and reflected light upon the bleakness of winter landscapes that we wouldn’t like it that much at all.  Snow is our reprieve, our chance to hold onto a rememberance of light and warmth.

So in that mind we planted.  We got our fingers dirty.  We held on the tips of our fingers little seeds that would produce vast quantities of fruit and vegetation.  We held resurrection in our hands and planted it in the ground.  We will fast and wait these Lenten days until Easter season when we will plant the coming harvest.

And incase you want to know, we planted tomatoes from Rutgers University’s NJ Farm Fresh program.  One crate full of Ramapo Tomato F1 Hybrids and one crate of Mereton Tomato F1 Hybrids.  32 plants in all.  Order yours today!

October will hopefully bring a pantry of sauce and salsa.