Autumn at the Promised Land CW

Reprinted from The Common Good, No 33, Pentecost 2005

I am reminded of the passage in Ecclesiastes where it says ‘everything on earth has its own time and its own season. There is a time for birth and death, planting and reaping.’

Autumn is a time of reaping of seeds sown in the spring. Graeme and I are enjoying the fresh produce of potatoes, corn, beans, carrots, celery, beetroot, zucchini, garlic, peppers and cucumbers from the glasshouse. Pumpkins, leeks, yams, parsnips yet to come. Silverbeet seeding everywhere. Peaches and currants and rhubarb, even a few grapes. Sunflowers and sweet peas have been flowering. Excess distributed to friends and CW family or made into pickles and jams.

Our three goats – Snowdrop, Jack and Jill – and the hens continue to thrive.

In recent times it has been a delight to share some time with Bob, Rachel and Phoenix from Duluth, Minnesota, over a meal while they were in NZ visiting various communities.

Recently, Graeme has defended himself on two charges of disorderly behaviour, outside the Lyndhurst Abortion Clinic, in court. He was acquitted on one charge of playing his trumpet, but found guilty on the other, so is in the process of appealing that judgment.

I have enjoyed joining other Catholic Worker core group members in a series of day-long retreats which have been a reflective and learning time for me. Ultimately in our struggles and conflicts, in the good times and not so good, God remains in control. Even when there is turmoil within and without. I need to remember this always and seek guidance and help from the Lord.

While the seasonal activity of harvesting goes on we are also packing up our gear and animals as we are moving from here to another rural property, with an end of May deadline. The CW vision will continue, though in a different location, at Leeston.

We have learnt a lot from our time here, and have gained new skills. There are different seasons to our lives, deaths and new births too. Watch this space for further developments.

—Lynette McLenaghan

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