With the gentler weather, come gentler times.
Yesterday's springlike softness became todays grey haze, and some garden work got done, some ponies got tidied up for half term pony club rallies, and some laundry got hung out on lines to billow in the breeze.
Planting with the moon, today I planted some cabbage seeds and some celeriac seeds. In fact, I inadvertently planted far, far too many celeriac seeds, losing concentration at the potting bench, so shall have some to share or sell, come the time!
The ground was dry enough, just, to hoe around some thriving garlic plants.
It's a time for great thought, as well, for dreaming dreams and knowing the time to live them is limited. For praying prayers and watching for the light, the guidance that confirms your dreams. For holding life itself in your hands, and saying 'thank you, Lord. I promise to use it well.'
Is life too full of tasks and lists and pressures and needs?
Where is the creativity that once thrived in my heart, my head, my hands?
When spring comes, will we be wandering the lanes, exploring their bounty, and breathing the sweet air, or cross about unplanted seeds, unweeded paths, unfinished lessons, unachieved targets, staying up late to replan schedules, and chastising ourselves for our poor efforts?
And from this, how are my children learning to live? In a life affirming swirl of worship, praise and thanks? Or in a knotted frown of frustrated striving?
How much can we change? How far from the dream?
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