I lack the techno-skills many people in the Bloggernacle have and feel a similar awe and wonder.

I, too, feel something in the garden that’s different from what I feel when I’m teaching or reading to my children or out hiking, but it’s all tied together somehow.

Payson is a good choice for many things; Spanish Fork / Springville not so much. Any question about where I attended high school – back when Santaquin was a tiny map dot town? (This is a perfect situation for a smiley emoticon, so please imagine there is one here – all those who ignored the initial warning.)

Yesterday at church one of our neighbors approached me to say how amazed she was at my large crop of corn. How did I find the time, wasn’t it too much to handle? After listening to her go on and on, another member asked me “wow, how much corn do you have?”. I felt a little sheepish when I told him I had two 4×4 raised beds with corn in them. Maybe because I grew up in a family that always had a garden ,but it seems strange that you can impress someone now by having a tiny garden.

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The Payson colonies helped me maintain my sanity.

Joshua, depending on where you are, you might try to find some swallows to observe. There’s something about swallows, about how they fly and how, if you keep at it, they’ll let you into the thick of them while they’re flying, that’s lovely and refreshing.

Speaking of swallows, can anybody tell me how the cliff swallow controversy at Utah Valley State College–excuse, me–University–turned out?

Yes, I mean romantic in that sense not an unrealistic sense. In the area of Utah County where I live I am very bothered by over development and what I see as a failure of many city councils and people to realize the importance of open spaces, parks, and more sensible development, but why would you when you can double profits through rezoning. I’ve seen so many critical environment areas removed because well dollar is king.

Yes, I feel fortunate in having so many toads. They even come in the house through the garage. My husband has witnessed them cross the floor on some mysterious task, disappear into a corner of the garage, then leave the garage on the exact route they’ve taken in. We’re not sure what’s going on but we know something is. More on this later.

We’re thinking about putting a pond in to encourage them to breed.

Also, we have snakes–garter and gopher snakes. Also, desert whiptails and collared lizards prowl through from time to time. Swallows, hummingbirds, and nighthawks the airborne bugs flying around my garden. Who knows what else goes on when I’m not looking. This is the best garden ever.

This is a widespread lament, and I just want to suggest hope–there are ways to be more “in touch” with life. The Garden of Eden was great while it lasted, but I really don’t think that God intended that we remain forever in paradisaical stasis. I have no desire to go back to that garden–I think we have it in us to make what we have even better than that lovely starting place. I think there are ways to build human communities where “nature,” as we say, as if were are no part of it, can abide. Many people, including modern cities, are experimenting with planting trees and other plants on roofs and terraces (if you think the landscaping atop the church Conference Center is simply to make it pretty, think again). Take hope, read up, think about how to change something to get that connection with nature that you desire.

A note: Correct me if I’m wrong, Joshua, but I don’t think Joshua’s using “romantic” here in the way it has been used previously in the comments to mean an unrealistic idealistic attitude, in this case about the natural world. I sense Joshua’s use here to tap into the kind of romance I engage in when I’m out in the garden or in the desert, a kind of love affair with nature, sometimes referred to as biophilia. For a nice definition of the biophilia hypothesis, see here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Biophilia

“When I first read Jackson’s argument, I found it very disheartening. Frankly, part of my reaction to it was because of my deep love of growing a garden. When I place my hands in the soil, when I water the plants, I come to diminish my alienation from the earth. It is those times that I am most open to long-term questions and meditations. Emotionally it is difficult for me to see tilling as inherently wrong.”

I’m not certain, of course, but tilling and gardening to diminish alienation from the earth is probably a lot less wrong than making no effort at all to cultivate one’s wonder at creation and deepen one’s humanity. But I know there are better ways. Wolves have their raison d’etre, but they’re not going to find them. Hummingbirds have their raison d’etre, but they’re not going to make great leaps in the science of agriculture (they did beat us to the harnassing the aerodynamics of helicopter-type flight and inspired us to do likewise, though). The challenge as I see it is not that there aren’t creative solutions to such problems but to keep the ball rolling, in our lives and our cultures, till we find the next best thing.

So many paradoxes we haven’t found ways to resolve … yet. But I know the solutions are out there. Personally, I live with the dilemmas, take responsibility, and look for the better way. In my garden, as in other parts of my life, I live with the tension between apparent limits and rising possibilities.