This post is a day late, in part because I got carried away in my patio garden yesterday--watering thirsty plants, trimming dead leaves, watching those little radish sprouts grow, and clipping fresh herbs for my dinner. I couldn't help it. I was seduced outdoors by the intoxicating fresh air, redolent with the perfume of blooming lilacs and greening grass; by the way the sunlight seemed to pull my beets upward until their leaves doubled in size under its loving gaze; and in the way my breathing just seemed to slow down when I took a moment to brush my hands against the dirt near my strawberries and onions.
Such is the glory of gardening. It grounds you. It connects you to this world, this earth. It sweeps away the cobwebs of the day and reminds you that there is blood pumping in your veins. It is all the possibilities you plant in your life made tangible, even as the more ephemeral seeds--hopes and dreams--take a little more time to manifest.
In honor of these glorious feelings, and the necessity abandoning the writing desk for time in the garden, I leave you with three posts on the delicious, delicious pleasures and revelations found among plants:
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