UNEXPECTED SWEETNESS

September 14, 2026

Rev. Dr. Kate Winters

I harvested two more tomatoes from a decrepit looking plant today.  While the leaves and stems were desiccated, the fruit was bright red having been somehow nourished by the stalwart plant that insisted on putting forth its bounty.  I wanted to take them right inside and make a sandwich so that I could claim that old and worn-out plants could offer the yummiest fruit!  Then I could imagine that the same could be said for humans.  Can you tell – I’m feeling old.  Old and nonproductive.  The plant gave me hope. 

But oh, what a day it is!  While sitting out on the back deck I am reveling in the wind – strong, cool, and causing the tall trees in the woods to sway in time with the flowers in the garden.  It is one of those days in which all of nature is announcing its vibrant presence, dancing its joy and singing its exuberance.  The cirrus clouds are floating across the sky at a good pace while the blue surrounding them hints of contentment and peace. 

Joel just returned from an errand and told me he thinks that the hummingbirds and the butterflies are gone for the year.  Just as he returned inside, two butterflies, one monarch and perhaps a fritillary, flew down into the zinnia patch, and a lady hummingbird fought the wind to position itself on the feeder.  At the same time, a bumblebee nearly as big as my thumb, went from bloom to bloom in the purple phlox and a dragonfly zoomed by.  I have never been all that fond of flying insects, but I am starting to love these little creatures that brighten the garden as they help it to thrive.  Joel has been sending them loving energy for years.  Perhaps that is what keeps them populating our yard.

As I rest in all the beauty of this late summer afternoon, I think again about those dry old tomato plants.  They are still bearing fruit because that is what they are created to do.  It is not always easy to know what we human types are meant to do, especially in our later lives.  But as another butterfly finds shelter from the wind in the phlox, it may be that it is no more complicated than that.  We can seek shelter and nourishment in the wonder of all of creation.  Should anything ripen inside of us, despite our condition of aging, we can still offer it to the world.  In fact, it is that very condition that can lead us to novel discovery.  We may find an unexpected and delightful sweetness.