Despite the cool of fall, there is growth. Seeds take shelter beneath the soil before unfurling leaves of green and fruit in its time. Our days are filled with plow and plant; our plans leap from paper to purpose. Empty rows transform from barrenness to full splendor.
As a garden goes, the south is blessed with multiple growing seasons..often fall being more productive than the spring. Our canner never goes out of commission, nor does the constant search for new and inventive fairs.
Today my boots sink deep in fresh tilled earth; dirt burrows deep beneath my nails and accents the tough callouses on my hands. Shovel and trowel and flats from the greenhouse trudge alongside me. Birds will bless my with song..Hadassah will rest near the edge of the garden gate.
Here all is well and life finds peace despite the whirlwind that blows around me. Here my soul weeps and rejoices..grieves and finds peace. Here, today, at this moment..is where I need to be.