Radishes In My Garden

My Lifetime Friend Karen and I once embarked on a whirlwind journey, the likes of which neither of us had ever been on before.

I had just moved to the Gulf Coast and never been in a hurricane; Karen didn't like to fly. She flew anyway, on a trip to see me at the close of a summer. As logistics would have it, it was necessary that I travel to Nebraska to pick up my two oldest girls, staying with Grandma. This trip had to be accomplished mere hours after Karen arrived.

A storm was brewing in the Gulf, and it was determined that we shouldn't waste any time getting on the road, lest hurricane damage and/or the storm itself were to impede our progress. We determined to set out immediately.

Just before we loaded into the car, I called her around to the side of the house, where I'd planted a tiny, wee garden, in the suburbs. In it were just a few plants, so small it was, but it was a treasure trove of anticipation for me.

"See my radishes?" I exclaimed, pointing at the leafy bunch.

"Pull one up and see how big they are!" Karen prodded, to my disbelieving thought that any fruit could or would possibly be ready for harvest.

Yet, I followed her instructions ~ and to my amazed eyes ~ a beautiful red globe lay in the palm of my hand. Glee overcame us as we gleaned several - to us, a sign of a fruitful trip ahead.

Radishes have long since held great meaning for us as we've weathered our individual storms of life. Every so often, one will ask the other, "How's the radishes?" A comment designed to remind the one commiserating in difficulty to look for the good fruit that might possibly be hidden beneath the rubble of the current trial.

So it is that I share my radishes today. The Square Foot Garden has gained a trellis, a new 5x5 box, and a smaller 3x3 box that I'll be planting this week, all the skilled effort of my GilGuy. The excitement and photos surrounding the new plant beds are put aside, however, in order to purposely reveal the first delicious crop from my garden.

You see, Karen's Dad has passed away. As I type, she and her family are engaged in all things grief. Funerals and arrangements and tears and hugs have been her lot in life, her storm, over the past few days.

I have no words of comfort to give that can erase the loss; no ability to span the miles and grant a shoulder to carry the burden. What I can give is hope, and a loving, poignant reminder:

Karen ~ there are radishes in the garden.

{I love you.}

{hugs}