For 6 years I’ve planted vegetables in my front yard. After all
this time I still have an uneasy relationship with seeds. I worry about
planting them too deep, too shallow, too close. I guess I could take a ruler
outside or keep notes on what works from season to season so I
could become more proficient at seed planting.
Instead I just live in vague apprehension of planting poorly and
conversely, vague hope that things will work out. Each time I plant a seed it
is with dubious anticipation and each time something sprouts I am delighted. Same
thing. Six years. Over and over.
That is why I love this sunflower.
Among my tomatoes, a random, accidental seed germinated into this tall
beauty. I did not plant it too deep, too shallow, too close.
No vague apprehension or hope accompanied its placement in the soil. It just grew, on
its own. It feels like a gift from the universe, bubbling laughter from the
garden gods.
"And faith is the awareness that creation is the gift that keeps on giving." Walter Brueggemann
