Gardeners make the best poets. The obvious metaphors provided by the garden are easy to harvest. To everything there is a season.
I just finished cleaning up the garden for the year. It was mostly weeds. I haven’t been a very productive gardener for the last couple of years. I have some dirt and I love to watch things grow. This year we got a couple of squash and enough basil to satisfy every Italian grandmother that ever lived. I don’t know how we ended up with so much basil.
This is the garden’s season of rest. It’s nice to think about all the potential of a clean slate. Mostly, it just feels good to take a deep breath.