it all happened so very fast, and here we are.
here we are in washington, in our newly rented abode, amidst all the beauty of the northwest abloom in summertime, and the window boxes waited for me.
five wooden boxes, neatly seated beneath the kitchen windows behind all kinds of green shubbery and even a blooming hydrangea. five boxes full of potting soil, on the shady side of the house.
five boxes of potential. my thoughtful husband who knows my dreams of gardening and eagerness to put my hands in the dirt told me yesterday, on our second day in washington, to go ahead and get started planting as it is already late in the growing season.
i could hardly contain myself yesterday when i noticed the dahlias for sale at the grocery store, and then the lavender today. and which herbs will thrive?
i find myself eager to fill the emptiness, and yet, i am also strangely hesitant.
emptiness surrounds us, in our home without our belongings, in our sphere without family or church, on our calendar with no commitments, and in our window boxes that stand in stark contrast to the glorious gardens in surrounding homes.
i want to fill the empty, but i want to fill it in unhurried fashion.
and perhaps all the filling and planting isn’t up to me.
may this new space be filled with beauty and fragrance and hope.
instead of plowing forward, i want to stop and listen and breathe.
the filling takes time and won’t be rushed.
remember this young gardener – overcrowding stifles growth.
ah yes, overcrowding stifles growth.