Cut a little brush every day

The area in question

For some years, I have been eyeing the area at the bottom of the field where the garden is located. It has become completely overgrown with briars and barberry. In addition, a series of storms brought down quite a few large branches into that same area. This has made it the perfect habitat for my nemesis in the garden, the dreaded woodchuck. So, not only is it unsightly, but it has become a haven for one of the worst garden pests. I have been thinking about clearing it for some time, but never had enough opportunity. A few days ago, I began the task. I am starting by removing the briars, which make access to anything else next to impossible. I’ve done some of this work before and I have discovered that the best approach is to be methodical. Find a starting point and then just work your way into the center of the plant. Often it is necessary to remove some of the long stringy branches first in order to be able to reach the base of the stems. Gradually, though, the next area to attack becomes apparent. And so it goes.

A work in progress

On the first day, I worked for about an hour. I may have cleared a total of about eight feet. At the end of the session, I looked at what I had done and was discouraged. Then a voice inside of me said, “Cut a little brush every day.” I realized that, if I wanted to finish this project, the important thing was to stick to it. It wasn’t important how much I got done in one day. It was more important that I be regular in my efforts. That is how I was going to tame this beast. So, my New Year’s resolution began a few days before January 1, 2019. Barring inclement weather, and not on Sundays or Holydays, I was going to cut a little brush every day. I’ve probably done about a forty foot strip on the outside by now. If we don’t get snow, I might be able to finish this stretch by the end of this week. Then I will start on the inner side, which is much worse. I am determined, though, to get this done, while I have the time. I may never have this chance again.

While doing this work, I couldn’t help thinking about the Scriptural references to thorns. Maybe the only thing I remember from my study of Hebrew is the expression “ve-dardar ve-quosh”, meaning ‘thorns and thistles”. The entire text is in Genesis 3 and is part of the curse that God puts on Adam for having eaten of the Tree of Life. “Cursed be the ground because of you! In toil shall you eat its yield all the days of your life. Thorns and thistles shall it bring forth to you, as you eat of the plants of the field. By the sweat of your face shall you get bread to eat, until you return to the ground, from which you were taken; For you are dirt, and to dirt you shall return.”

For most of human existence, this curse has been a lived reality for the vast majority of people. Until relatively recently, the survival of the race was always precarious. It depended on the ability of farmers to coax enough food from the earth. Pestilence, famine and disease were all too real – and still are, in some places on the planet. Genesis puts this in terms of a curse for our original disobedience to God. If we hadn’t disobeyed, we’d all be living in a well-watered garden where food was produced effortlessly and year round. What were Adam and Eve thinking?  Clearly, the writer of Genesis is at pains to explain why human beings have to struggle to provide enough food to survive. He has just written in the same book about a loving and beneficent God created a wonderful world for his creatures.

As a “gentleman farmer”, I have been repeatedly reminded over the years how easy it is too lose everything. When an unsparing drought or an inordinately wet summer destroys most of my crop, I know I won’t starve. While I may be dejected by seeing my efforts come to naught, I know that there will still be food on the table tomorrow and, in fact, until the next season. The experience of seeing the garden fail has taught me to appreciate the struggles of farmers throughout the world and throughout the centuries. It has also taught me to value every item of produce that I consume. Whenever I am asked to say grace at a public event, I always try to pray for those who produce the food we are about to eat. In the developed parts of the world, it is easy for us to forget that someone ( or often many people) had to produce the food in front of us. They had to get it to us “by the sweat of their brow”. We just have to tuck in and take our antacids later.