Seeds

If we are lucky, there is a recollection from childhood that we revere for being a time when expectations were delivered upon. Impatience at the waiting will have existed, but we remember the thrill better. Ingratitude may have been present, but not held in memory. We were open to the immensity of receiving and satiated by the result.
It could have been a toy, a feast, a visit, any number of details.
If we are lucky, we have this in memory.
This is the uncomplicated bliss with which I hold a new seed catalogue.
Those who garden understand, those who don’t feel let down perhaps - a seed catalogue? Recaptures all that?
Not recapture, not nostalgia.
A development of the grateful receipt that allows true happiness. As adults, we must do the work ourselves of course, it is a more proactive experience.
We make decisions - here the priorities are edible and medicinal - towards constructing our lives, living how we wish to live in order to make the most of being alive: not existing: living.
Through the pages I go, dreaming, making practical compromise, adding a layer at a time, growing reality from reverie.
Reading and gardening are the finest of addictions.
Both embrace hope, failure, perseverance, courage, magic.
Both can be shared.
I am holding up my words, hands grubby with earth, open.
Those seeds are let fly.