seeds.

We planted a garden a few weeks ago, Sus and I. It was one of those early spring days with a bit of summer flavour--flip flops and all. Perfect for an afternoon of planting. Neither of us have really tended a garden before, so this garden of ours is really an experiment in many ways. It's an experiment in tending nature. It's an experiment in discovering what can grow in our garden. It's an experiment in quantities, as we have no idea how many plants a bag of seeds will bring us--though it did take a little while before I realized that we had enough seeds for several feet of rows, not inches, as I had misread. And it's an experiment in patience.

Today we've begun to see the veggies of our labour. Little green shoots of carrots, onions and peas have emerged from their darkened slumber, breaking through the soil. Grasping their first breath of sunlight. It's a beautiful thing. I am quite amazed by this whole phenomenon called gardening. Three weeks ago the tiny seeds we delicately dropped into little holes in the soil seemed incapable of anything, let alone anything the size of a carrot. Yet, the beginnings of real vegetables are poking through. That vegetables actually grow from seeds only millimetres in diameter confounds me. I know there's a lesson here.