Deep Roots: Walking the Garden Path to Perdition

I was cruising right along, feeling okay about myself, when I came across a list of the Seven Deadly Sins. I really wish that hadn’t happened. Suddenly, I’m concerned that gardening has gotten me into big trouble.

I think I can skate on a few. Gluttony, for instance. And Sloth. I have a garden. There’s always work to do. Little time for Gluttony or Sloth.

And Wrath? I never feel wrathful. I never bring fury down upon my enemies. Hell, I don’t think I even have any enemies. And I’m too damned non-confrontational if I did. But if Wrath describes how I react to deer…and weeds…and hoses?!

Pride. My garden defies me. It never lives up to my hopes and dreams. Typically, I’m not terribly proud of it. But I’d like to be. Isn’t pride kind of the point? Isn’t that why I work so hard?

Theologically, I suspect that wanting to be proud of something might be as bad as actually being proud of it. If so, again I’m in the weeds. And I will admit this: there are certain moments when everything is mostly working. Blooms abound, the grass is freshly cut, I’ve had a glass of wine and something like pride wells up inside me. All in all, when it comes to Pride, I’m not blameless.

But it’s the remaining three sins that have me in a panic. Greed. Do I have more plants than I need? Yep. Do I want more? Oh God, yes! Yes. Yes!  Smells like Greed to me. 

But more damning might be the way I feel about plants. I love them. I need them. I hoard them. If what I feel every time I see a catalog bursting with seductive, luscious and alluring new introductions is Lust, I am so doomed.

Finally, there’s Envy. Whenever I visit a warmer zone and find myself surrounded by amazing plants I cannot grow, or, worse, when I go to somewhere with acidic soil and witness rhododendrons growing like weeds everywhere, even in parking lots—oh, this is when I am sinning the most! (Even though Bitterness somehow didn’t make the list, I’m guilty of it as well. And Seething Resentment.) 

I must confess, I’m not happy with being a bad person. My desire to be good is obsessive and I’m jealous of those who are better than I am. It would be incredibly gratifying to be more pious. But I can’t quit gardening. It’s what I do. It’s who I am.

Maybe I can warn others away from my road to perdition—“It’s too late for me. Save yourself! Choose knitting!”—but I probably won’t. I guess I’ll just have to hope that my wickedness makes the world a little more healthy, more beautiful and better for the people around me and for God’s other creatures, too.

Illustration by Tom Beuerlein