Gardening and Parenting, Same Thing
I planted blue hydrangeas in our front lawn yesterday and today. Actually, they are all green because they have not bloomed yet. I have a vision for this tiny ugly house of ours. If we play our cards right (and close our right eye and place our left hand just so) I think we can feel like we live in a farmhouse in the middle of an endless green meadow. When I was a teenager garden dirt on my hands gave me chills like nails on a chalkboard. Today it was spiritual and life giving; I must be growing up.
Today on the way to Nana’s Solomon was proud to know a strange animal fact, just like his older brother. Atticus was just as proud to let him know that he already knew that. I felt the air still, like in the eye of a storm. I searched for the smallest, most simple words I own to explain to Atticus that the way he speaks to his brother now will be a part of how Solomon sees himself later, and I think he actually got it. “So if I am in Africa and Solomon is here, and I hurt myself, Solomon will cry?”, he replies.
Yes, buddy. Exactly that. Brothers run deep.
The garden expert says that the flowers I planted today will take seven years to be full grown and sweep in front of our house like prairie grass in a wind storm. I think of time as I dig deep holes to place the roots in, not minding the work or the wait. It’s enough for now to plant with purpose.