I struggle to get the dirt out from under my nails and from the creases in my aging fingers.
Digging in soil, creating a garden, pulling out tired, overgrown plants, edging, and amending.
Worn work boots, knee pads, mud streaked shorts, hair askew . Hours spent reworking and revamping garden spaces.
Weeding, cultivating , raking, planting, deadheading, dividing , pruning, trimming.
It is creative, earthy, earthly, heavenly, tiring, soul feeding, honourable, and as uplifting as any stewardship of this great creation can possibly be.
It provides a bit of solitude, community, some monetary reward, bountiful spiritual reward.
It is common ground for my husband and I , and I hope we have instilled the passion in our children.
It links us to our past, our journeys, and is a vital component in the hope for all of our futures.
Won't you join me here, share the seeds, the wishes, the blooms, the fruits.