From little acorns

Some people think I am a good gardener. True, things grow. But things die too.

I have never been able to pinch seedlings for instance. God is not a roll I am good at. “You, seedling, are out of here.” They end up being transplanted, and then dying, but, they were given a chance and blew it.

Today, a sunny day. A novelty for this New England April. Rains are due back day after tomorrow. The soil was soaked from the past two days.

Time to plant all those hopeful little container plants and sow the wildflowers on my husband’s horse’s grave. The grave was a labor of love. Aged manure moved from the pile he helped build, mixed with sand, hoed, rolled, seeded, rolled again

A granite marker was thrown together from stones found while working with the hoe.

Gardening is a hopeful endeavor. We plant the seeds or bulbs and hope they grow. We imagine beautiful flowers, or food for our table. I shall hold on to that hope. It’s a good thing to enjoy right now