Planting

It's that most wonderful time of the year
when colour bursts forth in full bloom
and wildly paints up that winter-worn-out landscape.
Magnolia tree-branches dip low; heavily laden with pink and white petals
Tulips and daffodils fluttering and dancing in the breeze*
Boldly hued hyacinths boldly scenting the air,
Red maple leaves tenderly curled and furled,
Pointed sprouts peeking gingerly, a promise of beauty yet to come
And the grass grows into a rich, lush carpet of green.

It's that most wonderful time of year
when you can plunge your fingers deep into the soil
and feel a connectedness that reaches far beyond
dirt
and this place called Earth
A connectedness that strings together created with Creator -
an invisible cord and an umbilical tie that binds.


I stepped outside today with four children in tow and four seed packages in hand
I hadn't intended to have a seed package for each child but that's just the way life unfolds
sometimes
I love to garden but, truthfully, feel like it is just one more
thing
to
do -
Another task, another job, another entity to feed and water that demands my time and energy
and so I neglect.

But today the gardens beckoned and I knew we could tie in a science lesson, so we headed outdoors
Where the sun beamed brightly likes the iridescent rays of a smile
And the gardens boasted greenery that would continue to grow even without my help, thank you very much.
We cleaned up that garden, grooming, guiding, turning, mulching
unearthing writhing, wriggling worms
but gently so that no worm was hurt in the planting of this garden
or the writing of this blog.
And then we opened our seed packages -
teeny tiny carrot
plump bean
striped mammoth sunflower
rotund sweet pea -
and marveled that each seed was waiting for the perfect time
and place
and conditions
to burst forth into glorious growth.

Once each seed was placed with delicate precision, we tucked it in
blanketing each seed with warm layers of ground
and fed it watery sips.
And now we wait.

At bedtime tonight, I sat at the bedside of one of my sons,
he wrapped arms tightly around my neck and whispered,
"I can't wait to see our plants grow!  Will they be growing tomorrow?"
and I smiled at his exuberance for something that I saw as another
job
and answered, "No, buddy.  Not tomorrow, but soon.  Very soon!"

I kissed his cheek,
and tucked him in -
blanketing him in warm layers -
and marveled that this child of mine
had been planted in my life.


-bvh



*a little nod to William Wordsworth here