Sometimes it’s in the little things.
And sometimes it’s in the big things.
But today…it was the little things. Little moments of grace, gratitude. Metaphorical seeds planted for next season’s harvest. Faith and moving forward. I’m hungry for what’s next.
In the schoolyard garden that I still tend during summer break, I am grateful for the solitude, the quiet and even for all the weeds that need my attention.
I fucking love those weeds.
They are clear, decisive, transparent. Easy.
There is no debate as to whether they are ‘good’ or ‘bad’ for me, they simply do not belong mixed in with the bed of strawberries.
End of story.
I fucking love those weeds.
They make it easy for me. No decisions to make, no problems to solve, no bigger life choices to contemplate.
Just grab, pull, toss. They take me in like a gentle old friend who doesn’t ask any questions and who lets me just sit on the couch with a cup of tea, in silence.
I fucking love those weeds.
It was a ‘productive’ morning in the garden, mostly of doing nothing in particular, except removing the weeds (inedible) from the food (that which nourishes me). In other words, removing obstacles (I glance and smile at my tiny crystal Ganesha across the room as I write these words).
Remover of obstacles.
This morning, on my way out of the garden, I snipped a little bouquet of catnip and oregano flowers and grabbed a tiny cluster of tomatoes that had fallen to the ground. A beautiful, rustic little offering from the garden that I gratefully displayed in my home.
Much more weeding to come…
