As I worked my way around that morning glory bed, I discovered some interesting things. We had originally planted the seeds in concentric circles, and then as the vines grew we trained them to head to the center of the bed toward the huge metal trellis, a cow panel Keith had woven along half an old antenna pole and then stood up on its end toward the sky, fifteen feet high. Every year they come back, but they aren’t in circles any longer. They grow up wherever the seeds fall from the dried out blooms the year before. The more weeds I pulled, the better I could see the vines, and a few surprises awaited me.
More than once I had to be careful not to pull out a morning glory along with the weed. The long spindly vines often clung to the weeds, and I had to carefully unwind them. Sometimes as I unwound them I discovered that they were headed in the wrong direction—to the outer edge of the circle rather than toward the trellis. These I carefully turned around until they were pointing the right way.
Other times the vine was too tightly wound around the weed, using it as a trellis, despite the fact that it was nestled, supposedly safely, among its brother vines. The only way I could get it loose was to break it off. Those I was especially careful with, laying them along the ground pointing toward the true trellis, and watering them deeply. Maybe they will survive and maybe not, but the only hope they had was the amputation. Maybe they will live but their growth be stunted. Maybe they will mend and grow again. Time will tell and we all know that healing often hurts.
And then there were the morning glories I found totally outside the bed, headed in no direction at all. What to do? Well, I guess I could have picked up a spade and a hoe and made the bed large enough to include them, but that would have been ridiculous unless we eventually wanted our whole yard to be one morning glory patch. So I pulled a few, the ones that looked iffy to begin with, and transplanted others. Will they live? I don’t know, but they would have been mown down next weekend if I had done nothing.
Another thing I discovered underneath all those weeds was new morning glories. Some vines were only a couple of inches long. But now they will have a chance. They will not be choked out by the weeds that steal the nutrients from the soil and shade the sun. New growth cannot happen if you don’t get rid of those weeds.
Spend a few moments today thinking about the metaphors here. Are you clinging to something besides the Lord? Have you wandered away from His care? Are you trying to make His flower bed bigger than He made it? And, ultimately, are you headed in the right direction, toward the one trellis that reaches for the sky?
And he answered and said, He who sows the good seed is the Son of man, and the field is the world, and the good seed, these are the sons of the kingdom; and the weeds are the sons of the evil one; and the enemy that sowed them is the devil; and the harvest is the end of the world, and the reapers are the angels. As therefore the weeds are gathered up and burned with fire, so shall it be in the end of the world, Matt 13:37-40.
Dene Ward
More than once I had to be careful not to pull out a morning glory along with the weed. The long spindly vines often clung to the weeds, and I had to carefully unwind them. Sometimes as I unwound them I discovered that they were headed in the wrong direction—to the outer edge of the circle rather than toward the trellis. These I carefully turned around until they were pointing the right way.
Other times the vine was too tightly wound around the weed, using it as a trellis, despite the fact that it was nestled, supposedly safely, among its brother vines. The only way I could get it loose was to break it off. Those I was especially careful with, laying them along the ground pointing toward the true trellis, and watering them deeply. Maybe they will survive and maybe not, but the only hope they had was the amputation. Maybe they will live but their growth be stunted. Maybe they will mend and grow again. Time will tell and we all know that healing often hurts.
And then there were the morning glories I found totally outside the bed, headed in no direction at all. What to do? Well, I guess I could have picked up a spade and a hoe and made the bed large enough to include them, but that would have been ridiculous unless we eventually wanted our whole yard to be one morning glory patch. So I pulled a few, the ones that looked iffy to begin with, and transplanted others. Will they live? I don’t know, but they would have been mown down next weekend if I had done nothing.
Another thing I discovered underneath all those weeds was new morning glories. Some vines were only a couple of inches long. But now they will have a chance. They will not be choked out by the weeds that steal the nutrients from the soil and shade the sun. New growth cannot happen if you don’t get rid of those weeds.
Spend a few moments today thinking about the metaphors here. Are you clinging to something besides the Lord? Have you wandered away from His care? Are you trying to make His flower bed bigger than He made it? And, ultimately, are you headed in the right direction, toward the one trellis that reaches for the sky?
And he answered and said, He who sows the good seed is the Son of man, and the field is the world, and the good seed, these are the sons of the kingdom; and the weeds are the sons of the evil one; and the enemy that sowed them is the devil; and the harvest is the end of the world, and the reapers are the angels. As therefore the weeds are gathered up and burned with fire, so shall it be in the end of the world, Matt 13:37-40.
Dene Ward
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