Salt Leaven and Light

The weather was beautiful today, which made me feel even more grateful that I was able to spend the entire afternoon in the garden: pulling weeds, pruning trees, planting seeds. The garden is my safe haven, where lessons and analogies surround me on all sides, preaching life-changing sermons without saying a word:

* delicate pea plants, reaching for the sky in search of more light

* a pink and black hummingbird, pausing for a moment before returning to flight

* worms working their way through the soil, aerating and fertilizing as they go

* an unseen ant hill, which led to multiple stings

* crossing paths with an injured bee

* the first pink blossom on a fruit tree, growing on a branch I feared was dead

* pruning back rose bushes in preparation for a season of new growth

* water giving life to every living thing

Each plant and insect caused me to pause and reflect on the lessons it had to teach.

I returned to the house feeling grateful, as always, for an abundant harvest of garden-fresh tomatoes, carrots, lettuce, radishes, and herbs.

But it’s always the harvest of garden-fresh life lessons that I relish the most.