we needed to stake our claim on the ground. to mix the dirt between our fingers and remind ourselves from where we came. the urge to plant a garden hit us only a week ago, on a walk down a little path near our house. we passed the bridge over the old creek and it just hit me: the need to grow something.
in the few days that followed, we shoveled, tilled, mixed and planted. our knees were black with compost and our gloves sweaty. we planted way too many vegetables, and too close together. we've yet to come up with a good watering schedule. we're keeping away critters with tin pans tied to a stick. we are novices, in the simplest sense. rising early and going out in the dark with a flashlight to check on them.
and even if none of them produces, i'll remember this may. this season of change. this laboring with my love. and even when grass grows back over that little 10 by 10 square, i'll look at it and know. that things and people die. but sometimes they grow too. and it's the cycle of both that keeps us pushing on.