As I sit under lamp light hearing the drip drop rattatat of rain on the window, I wonder if I should put on another sweater; perhaps my weekend cardigan with the big wooden buttons... it's a damp cold you know? We've had a surprisingly dry winter up till recently, but now days are looming as far as the weather man can see - heavy, wet and dark.
This past holiday I was given a gift of promise. Seeds from a friends garden, what a wonderful gift! I've had them out today, daydreaming about the spring and the garden. About how and what we will plant; the flowers, the vegetables and the herbs that will grow and end up on our table, feeding our family. Knowing that when we dig into the earth - the heady scent of good soil will rise, our hands will get dirty, we will unearth 2 my little ponies, 3 buried treasures, and the garden spade I was looking for all last Fall.
I'm thinking about how long ago when people emigrated from their home lands, they carried with them seeds from their gardens; sometimes sewn into their clothes like precious jewels. I am thinking about how those seeds were planted, the plants harvested and the seeds passed on; how we are connected through the smallest seed.
When I plant these seeds, when they grow and when I harvest; they will be known as Crystal and Hunter's scarlet runner beans, marigolds, and poppies. And I will pass on the seeds for another year in another garden. What a lovely thought, what could be better than a gift of promise?