I took a quick trip up to the cabin this weekend because my Dad said the garden was suddenly bustling with goods. And, well, I just didn't want to miss it! I have found myself yearning for the quiet of the garden.
The mornings when I'm up there–and the kids are occupied enough–I sneak out into the garden, wander through the rows a bit, and settle into a section to pull some weeds. It is so quiet. And in that moment, it is almost sacred. My gardening meditation. Quiet does not come easily in my life. I have three kids; they are noisy; I am a talker; I work with talkers; I even have a hard time being with my own quiet little thoughts. But in the garden? In the garden I am re-discovering the quiet. And I need it. The sound of sing-songy birds, and then pretty much nothing else. Ahhhhh.... In the middle of a crazy week, I cannot wait to get out there again.
I am here to "help" my Dad. But really? I am helping myself.