Dirt, Flowers, and the Art of Cultivating Hope
On blooming
“But I don’t want to wait,” whined seed.
“Is it really waiting,” asked worm, “if you're always growing?”
Thoughts while making
Some of my earliest memories are of flowers.
Delicate pink tea roses against our back fence.
Red fire geranium in pots of every size.
Sweet-tinted apple and plum blossoms overhead, tiny sparks of magic becoming fruit picked by small juice-stained hands.
Our backyard was small, but my mom’s love of color was big.
From the ancient greens of staghorn ferns to the ruby shock of pomegranate buds.
From the purple of hopseed bushes to springtime golds of daffodil and iris.
My mom cultivated beauty, the outrageous hope of seeds planted in dirt.
And, at 80, she still does; nurturing, growing, bringing color to an oft-grey world.
And that's the funny thing about seeds, isn't it? You literally *do* reap what you sow.
So. What will you grow?
Will you plant fear, resent, and regret? Or will you germinate hope, trust, and love.
Will you spend your time cultivating stubbornness, ignorance, and anger? Or, pour yourself into compassion, awe, and wonder?
Grow good. Grow truth. Grow tenderness. Grow honor.
What’s one positive “thing” you can grow this week?
