There is something quite satisfying about digging around in the dirt. Satisfying to the soul. Although my body is surely paying for it now, my soul feels full.
I spent this afternoon planting seeds of cosmos annuals and trays of sunflower seedlings I had started two weeks ago along a fence row. Now I eagerly await the results.
I am planning ahead. By the time they grow tall and proud and shine their sunny faces to the west, I will be in a position where I can linger and enjoy their bright colors. So today, bookended by pockets of rain showers, I dug through the mud and clay to carefully place the seeds and tender seedlings in their new beds. By the time the birds can come and feast on the sunflower heads, I will have the time to stay and watch their merry luncheons.
It makes me think, more of my deep thinking of late—small start from tiny seed, with baby roots they grow, slow and steady, reaching tall and proud, sending their colorful faces to the sun, flashing but in the summer pan and to be gone with winter’s first chill.
There is a poem in there somewhere so best to enjoy them while they are here and not worry about the morrow. Perhaps there is a lesson in there as well. For now, I am content enough just for the satisfaction of digging in the dirt on a Sunday afternoon.