My tiny gardening named “ Beverly” ever remains a restful place for me.
I try to work it a little bit. I dig. I plant and then I sit.
It’s where seeds seem dead, but spring to life producing beauty without much strive.
A quiet place in space and time where growing things remains sublime.
Randy and Bowie , my little fish are in position after all it is tradition.
tomatoes, cucumbers, flowers, and corn. No room for more. That’s not a mourn.
I couldn’t wouldn’t want for more. I need a quiet space not more unfinished chore .
Scarlet runners seem like magic beans, same as those in childhood dreams.
I know that’s not a classic rhymn. just bear with me and give it time .(it will grow on you)
Not far from here my bird “Fe’nix“ competes with wilder wings in sing song meets.
We will watch things grow and be amazed that life is good. And our God is praised!
springtime musings. by me 5/5/2026
