Staycation | Day 5

We do not grow absolutely, chronologically. We grow sometimes in one dimension, and not in another; unevenly. We grow partially. We are relative. We are mature in one realm, childish in another. The past, present, and future mingle and pull us backward, forward, or fix us in the present. We are made up of layers, cells, constellations.

Anaïs Nin, French-Cuban American diarist, essayist, and writer (1903–1977)

The child in me clapped with joy this morning at the sight of new shoots of grass. I didn't have much hope but was thinking about the Parable of the Sower as I worked in new soil, seeded the earth, and watered the uninspiring blank patch.

For me these little shoots shout SUCCESS and HOPE that this little barren patch will be verdant some day.

Like many others, the COVID quarantine motivated me to get down into the dirt (and the weeds) to plant flowers and a little grass. Mother Earth has responded kindly: even without a 'green thumb', her polymorphous raiment shines. And my heart sings.