gardeners — the ones who like to get their hands really dirty — are some of my favourite people in the whole world.
they are only concerned with what is growing outside their own front doors, but their hearts are big enough to encourage the smallest effort at planting-and-hoping-for-life.
they know that most of us just need water, food, a place for our roots, and lots of love and light — and then the magic happens.
they know that fruit trees, and flowers all have their place and that we are all different, but rooted the same, and
they spend all their energy tilling the soil they have been given, and sometimes the soil that has been taken from them, too, and they know that bad soil, much like a heart, can be fixed by adding a bit of this, and removing a bit of that, and
that good soil can wear out if it isn’t given a chance to rest.
and gardeners know that a little bit can be too little, and a lot can be too much, and that life lies in having just enough of what we need, and when we have more than we could ever use, we need to give it away, or it will rot, right there in our hands, and that sometimes the more we harvest, the more we get.
they know that plants are greenest where they are watered and cared for, and
they live each day by the seasons — to a gardener, every season has a beauty, and a function, all of its own — to everything there is a season,
and it all belongs in the big plan.
they have enormous hearts — the biggest, really, that delight in seeing life, reach for the light, through dark soil, and
they know how to push through a bad harvest, or a harsh winter, or a drought that will kill the joy right out of a heart — they know how to look for hope, and for life, and even for signs that it’s over — and it’s important to know when something is over.
doors need to be closed, as much as opened, sometimes.
and these are my people, the ones with dirt under their fingernails and hope in their eyes, even when that hope is held by a single thread, or a tiny seed, and mustard seed is good for hope, i’ve heard it said, and
it only takes one — seed, or heart, either one will do — to get a plant growing, and a mountain moving, and a heart believing that there is more.
it only takes one, and that’s when the magic happens.
— on tending hearts and soil.
Photograph by Gelgas.
A little freeform writing this afternoon, on one of my favourite things in the world,