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There’s a garden that grows in the backyard, sprouts coming up from seeds. Every morning, more loveliness. I wake, and walk out into the yard to see what the night rain has brought me.
There are radishes and onion and beets and carrots and edamame and cukes and squash and zucchini and peas that have grown from seed, first delightful little sprouts, then plants that take their place in the garden bed. Also, in the way of herbs, there is burdock and echinacea from seed, and milk thistle, lovage, borage, basil, dill, parsley, cilantro, tarragon, thyme and mint from the herb sale at Maymont a couple of weeks ago. Perhaps still to come are some fennel, oregano and marjoram.
I’ve been studying up on organic gardening as I plant and — do you know — it is the soil that feeds the plants. The plant takes from the soil what it needs in the way of nutrients and minerals and is thus healthy and filled with life. And color. And delight.
This garden belongs to me in the general way, in that my hands mixed the soil and planted the seeds, but in the truer sense, I belong to this garden, to this little microcosm of this beautiful earth.
