Having fallen far short of the mark when it comes to the New Year's resolutions (2nd post of the year, 2.5 months in), I am practicing the art of forgiveness by forgiving myself. And revising the lofty New Year's resolutions to include sabbath. Yes, sabbath, my friends. This from the perpetual motion machine. I had a moment of sabbath, reading on my front porch on a sunny Friday afternoon, and it was Very Good. There is something about sitting outdoors in the sun which my soul desperately craved after a Wisconsin winter. Filled up the "sunshine" gauge enough to carry me through the next month of Wisconsin springtime yo-yo weather.
I got sucked into dreaming about summertime activities. So when we sang "In The Garden" during worship this morning, my heart, my nose and my toes were about 3 months ahead of the calendar. I thought about the delicious feeling of walking in the yard barefoot, cool green grass reaching up from sun-warmed soil. I realized that substantial thawing and seeding and germinating needs to happen before that's a likelihood. There are 3 inches of icy water in my backyard and mixed precipitation I can only describe as "blech" coming from the sky.
So I compromised, and bought flower and herb seeds at the big-box store today.
Even ripping open the seed packets feels like an act of hopeful rebellion in the face of today's weather. I carefully water little compressed discs of growing medium and add itty bitty seeds: forget-me-nots, dwarf basil, lavender. I cross my fingers that the cat does not overturn the delicate trays. This blustery lenten day offers no promise of what is coming. But somewhere in my spirit the irresistible cry of lengthening days tells me, "grow!" I examine my impulses, consider my intentions, and make my preparations for the day the garden awakens.
