Wednesday, March 21, 2018

However many years she lived, Mary always felt that she should never forget that first morning when her garden began to grow.

 Frances Hodgson Burnett, The Secret Garden

We pay a visit to the community garden late in the afternoon. There are signs of activity.

Spinach and garlic grow in a few plots in the sunniest areas, and a couple of plots have already been dug. In my plot at the back, where snow melts a bit later, my fall-planted spinach is just starting to sprout.

It’s time to uncover the garlic, spread some manure, and plant some peas.

At home, the snow is almost all gone in the back yard and the little kitchen garden awaits. I haven’t made my way out there yet, but from afar it looks like I’ve got a row of onions growing. That’s a surprise.

So, spring.

And simple happy.



I’m a writer, reader, and creative. I thought by now I’d have things figured out, but I keep coming up with more questions. I think that’s okay. I’m here most mornings pondering ordinary things and the thin places where faith intersects.

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