May 15, 2019

      It’s one of life’s lovely happenstances that in my corner of the world, I put in the vegetable garden on Mother’s Day. Both events honor the urge to create, the desire to coax tender shoots into healthy plants. Both require patience, nurturing, and vigilance. They are a testimony to hope. Unlike produce from a garden, though, children aren’t grown for consumption. If anything, they consume. And consume. But they feed the heart and soul like nothing else on this earth.

     “Planting season” are two of my favorite words, if only because they give me license to play in the dirt. From the minute my hands grip the handles of the wheelbarrow I know I’m in  for a vigorous workout. While swimming and hiking I occasionally check the clock to mark my progress. I lose all track of time gardening. My body falls into its own rhythm of walk, push, bend, dig, stand, walk, etc. The slow movement of a band of shadow across the garden marks the passa...

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