We may be on the verge of a new world war,
but the sun shone strong and the temperature climbed to nearly 71 degrees,
on the last day of February!
It was my first dirty-fingernailed gardening day of the year.
I weeded around our sweet tea olive shrubs,
hoping the weed growing there is not one that sprouts back
if only a minuscule portion of its threadlike root is left behind.
How much easier it is to grow weeds than plants.
How much easier it is to cultivate bad habits than good ones.
I triumphantly transplanted two hyssops
that grew from seed last year in the Mother Berm.
The Mother Berm is doing what I hoped;
I can hardly believe it.
Simple things in a complex world.
Beautiful things that might easily be crushed under a heavy tread
as the world degenerates.
I have no plan except to throw myself on the merciful power of God
and stock my purse with a small packet of
aspirin/acetaminophen/ibuprofen, cough drops, bandaids, sani-wipes,
and arnica gel.
Spring is always a time of hope.
Blessed baby leaves emerging from the base of a perennial,
always a reminder of the resilience of life,
the will to come back,
the will to go on,
the search for our source and our destiny.
