The Art of What We Grow

July 9, 2010 | 15 comments

Evening comes, and I weave a path through the windbreak, then down past rows of almost-tassling corn.

Sun sinks low past that line of 200 trees that he and I planted seven years ago, when we came home to stay. Sun drops behind the country church, silhouetting the place that took us in … as if we’d always belonged there.

In orange glow of sunset, I remember the first time I took communion there, tears streaming down cheeks.

I’m finding, more and more, that who we are is found in the things we grow. And for us, these things have deep roots: family, crops, a legacy of generations, an old country church, words rooted in the Word … Root of David.

This is the art of what we grow, and it makes up the God Gallery of our days. I walk through His museum, touch the artwork, breathe it in and discover that I can lose myself and find myself all at once.

In mid-summer days, this is how we’re growing …

“… That you may live a life
worthy of the Lord
and may please him in every way:
bearing fruit in every good work,
in the knowledge of God …”
— Colossians 1:10

Photos: Sunset at windbreak; Tea parties and homegrown fun; horsing around with Uncle Mark; head-high corn; growing good habits of running with daughter (her second 5K); lawn-mower rides; our church at sunset.

Church sunset photo credit: Neighbor Scott F.

by | July 9, 2010 | 15 comments


  1. Wendy Paine Miller

    It's lines like this, woman…"I'm finding, more and more, that who we are is found in the things we grow." It's lines like that!

    ~ Wendy

  2. Sandra Heska King

    I'm reading this as I watch the corn tassels from my kitchen window.

    We've come home to stay, too. In more ways than one.

    Love the "God Gallery of our days."

  3. Billy Coffey

    You live a blessed life, sister.

  4. Deidra

    five years ago i didn't know the richness of this life. it's still growing on me…the corn, the wind, the exploding sunsets that take over the sky. five years ago i thought it was all cows and corn and tornadoes. but it's richer than that, indeed. much richer and deeper.

    miles to go. miles to go…

  5. Deborah Ann

    Ah, I really feel peaceful now. So glad I came here today, and slowed down to enjoy the simplicity of life along with you…

  6. B. Meandering

    I live in the midst of my small town in a tiny home we will eventually rent out, but corn fields are 5 minutes away. I took a drive yesterday with the windows down, savoring the beauty of the fields, while I look for our next home in the midst of fields. Your photos just stengthened my resolve.
    Wonderful post.

  7. A Simple Country Girl


    What a wonderful taste of your yield. Thank you.

    Feeling quite uprooted today. For someone who yearns for the deepness of long-standing roots, I can count at least 13 places I have lived. Saying good-bye to the one I thought was my fertile farmland (today).

    So, tell me, gypsies can grow things in the wind, right?


  8. Rebecca Ramsey

    What a beautiful post, and what a pretty place to grow children!

  9. Laura

    Oh, Jennifer. You are so beautiful.

  10. Kelly Langner Sauer

    I've not seen the deep purple clematis since my grandmother's death. It breaks me. What beauty you have. Thank you for sharing.

  11. Charity Singleton

    You all have a green thumb it looks like — growing grace along with corn there in Iowa!

  12. Karen

    This post makes me smile…I love what you share…and how you share it….

  13. Shirl

    You live such a beautiful life!

  14. Beth E.

    Oh, the fruits of your labor! These words and pictures are absolutely beautiful. Thanks for sharing that beauty with us.

    You are such a blessing, Jennifer…to me, and to so many others. 🙂

  15. Darlene

    just beautiful photos…


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