Maybe I’m a simpleton, but every time I see those tiny green shoots peep up out of the soil, I am amazed. Not just sort of amazed, but like Grand Canyon amazed. Niagara Falls amazed. Just witnessing something so large at work in something so small as a tiny seed mixed with soil, water, and light utterly floors me.
I worry for a few days after I plant seeds—worry that something has gone terribly wrong, that my soil is too cool, or the light is not bright enough, or my water is not wet enough. I worry and worry and worry until one day, a little speck of green emerges and I can relax a little.
It’s the excitement, the exhilaration, the absolute thrill of germination that keeps me coming back to the garden and the whole process of planting hope and reaping joy.
Please join me in welcoming some basil, zucchini, and zinnias into the world. I’m still currently worrying and worrying and worrying about my parsley and marigolds.
I nervously waited all week for my pumpkins to germinate. I thought for sure they’d be up by Thursday, but Thursday came and went and still nothing. I began to worry. I’m not usually a worrier, but I guess when it comes to my pumpkin patch, I am.