Planting / by Karie Luidens


The grand reveal: my garden! Does it look barren and dull, especially under all that cloud cover? Don’t be deceived by appearances. As of this past week’s planting, a whole world of seeds is scattered atop that ground and tucked just beneath its surface: tiny grains of amaranth, flecks of sunflower, pebbly kernels of corn.

I hope the mild soil temperatures and sunlight will inspire life to unfold from dormancy. As I write this, each seed coat may be peeling or melting back, letting moisture kiss the living embryo within to wake it from its sleep. Tiny, cramped radicals will loosen their clench and start curling outward into the world, feeling for ups and downs. Threads of newly-green shoot will reach instinctively skyward. 

I hope. But their fate is no longer in my hands. I’ll mist them every morning before the sun climbs over the rooftops and amend the soil further where I can, but from here on out their growth is up to nature more than nurture.