G is for gardening. 

I come from a long line of people who like to play in the dirt.  I feel like I never get enough time in the garden, between my crazy commute and my copious hobbies.  But when I do get down into the mud, I love it. 

I love blooms, and berries, and herbs, and vegetables as much as any gardener does.  But I plant and tend for the love the growth itself, and of transition.    Watching  a favorite perennial emerge from the soil is a gift every single time.   Or finding a sport that traveled from a neighbor’s garden or across the yard. 

I love taking part in this annual bargain with my plants–I offer them shelter and care, and they return year in and year out, breaking through the soil to fill whatever niche in our landscape.  I’ve had this Cranesbill since I was 18, and have moved transplant after transplant from one home to another since I first planted it. 

I love the decline and the deliquesce as well–gathering the fallen leaves and composting them, and harvesting compost wriggling with earthworms.  I’m a dyed in the wool tree-hugging, dirt-worshiper.

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