Everywhere you go…
There’s a broccoli in a leafy “tree”…
Kids in the dirt, you see…
and limes that fell because they mind the “snow”…
Inside is a face covered in crayon. A mug of coffee half gone. A breakfast grandly attempted which achieved a modicum of success. Two very special notes: the names she first gave us written on notes in her own hand.
Outside, the fog is burning off in the sun’s beams of day awakening.
It is time for shoes until the ground wand and the day swings full.
The softness of the soil entrapped in a milkweed’s grasp. The moments between dog barks, airplanes, and old cars driven by young people insistently down the road. The expansion from seed tray to 4″ pots. The addition of seed trays. The tender trust in Echinacea stems.
There’s so much nutrition in the garden before anything ever touches our tongues.
“Hey honey… is there anything sown in the back left bed because…” Sprint outside.
If I leave the office just when. If the lights time just so. If the traffic behaves just. If, if, if.
I am home with a little light left. Greeted at the door by two gleeful voices, one escorts me to the closet. “Mama work. Mama jacket off?”
Yes, love. As hurriedly as I can. “Mama’s shoes? Closet?” Yes, love. “I do it.” Mmm… My turn. “Up, please.” It is not a question. Outside? “Yesh!”
Outside we traipse. He, on my hip, me seeking peace. Where can I find a sip of calm. Where can I snatch a glimpse of soothing. What can I feed my soul before the light dies.
I uncover the kumquat. I de-leaf the strawberries. I unwrap Bill and find his lit leaves warm at his feet.
I eyeball the compost pile. Is there time? I could…
“Uh oh, mama.” Quickly, I look up. The light is dying. The moment has passed. Only the tips of the neighboring trees are still frosted with the day’s last color. I look over my shoulder. Uh oh, indeed.
I don’t spend much time in sowing carrots. It is a six hand job in our garden, and four of those hands are fast, messy, and exuberant.
But in the time it takes between sowing and thinning, four of the hands hand grown such that the remaining two are left to work in peaceful, rare, savory solitude.