What do I know about planting successions of lettuce and beans? What do I know about feeding the soil, not just the plants? What do I know about harvesting not for one person, or one family, but for 70 subscribers and dozens of other families around the area?

 

According to Esther de Waal, Anglican laywoman and Benedictine Oblate, stewardship means "trustee-ship, the responsible holding in trust of something only temporarily loaned to us for its good usage, and for which we remain accountable to Christ ... our position is that of care-takers." I am a caretaker. I am freed and empowered to know that I am a caretaker of this holy land. At the end of the day I remain accountable to Christ, and I believe the questions he would ask me would not be from the list above, but questions like: Did I recognize God's presence in the people, plants, and experiences I met today? Was I generous with the gifts (vegetables, kindness, patience) I have been given?

 

Although I'm certain that I am not alone in this fear of being an inadequate caretaker, my role as caretaker and steward has an added complexity. Since I am only a steward using borrowed land, I'm ultimately responsible for ensuring the long-term health of that land and the surrounding community.

 

But sometimes maintaining the ideal balance in my garden ecosystem is beyond my control. Blighted tomatoes, too much heat, not enough water, too much water bring anxiety into my consciousness. Just as deer and rabbits nibble on the emerging oak seedlings in the forest, I've seen the tops of my lettuce patches ragged with bite marks. Then high wind speeds or heavy downpours flatten or break plants at the stem, creating havoc both in my garden plot and in my ability to provide the expected produce.

We can all mow, trim, pull weeds, fell trees, and plant seedlings within the framework of stewardship. There is certainly an inherent benefit in that. But we must also recognize how the land connects us to past, present, and future human communities. Realizing that connection deepens our bond to the land.

 

While the CSA connects subscribers with the land as a source of food, the Arboretum strives to connect people to a native landscape. Both help us recognize where we are from and of what we are made. Engaging more deeply with the land and people around us is the only way to ensure real long-term stewardship-of the land, our communities, and ourselves. As a gardener and caretaker, I must realize my own physical limitations. I simply cannot insist that rains cease or that the sun shine.

 

But seeing God in the first snow pea and the last butternut squash causes my anxieties to fade away, and my peace restores itself. And in the midst of picking endless buckets of beans, cucumbers, and carrots, I imagine the people who will eat these vegetables. I take a deep breath, transfer the last batch of produce to the waiting arms of a subscriber; it is then I realize that I myself am in the hands of an eternal Caretaker.

 

This, and other articles connected to the fear of working and experiencing the natural world can be found in this fall's St. John's Arboretum Newsletter:  

http://www.csbsju.edu/Documents/Arboretum/Publications/SagataganSeasons/2011Autumn.pdf

 

 

 

Common Ground Garden is a CSA (Community Supported Agriculture) farm, where members purchase a share of vegetables and each week during the farm season receive a bountiful box of fresh produce. We pride ourselves on producing fresh, clean, healthful food picked at the peak of flavor and nutrition. As much as we are able, we grow our vegetables without the use of any chemical herbicides, pesticides or fertilizers. We use cover crops, rotations, compost and ingenuity to produce your food in a way that's healthy for you and for the community. When necessary for pest control or to combat disease, we use only products approved for organic gardening.