Last week I was outside, trying to get our garden ready for tending.
Evening light has to be among my favorite things.
I was busy pulling out plants that had come up in the spring, stuff that needed to be pulled so the ground could be tilled.
Shortly thereafter, Isaiah and Mia came over and began picking them up.
"Look how lucky we are!"
Her delight at spongy parsnips and small onions was genuine and full of joy.
They set to work making soup.
That one line has stuck with me.
In my life's assortment of onions and parsnips, can I see how lucky I am?
Am I willing to do this thing?
Am I willing to submit to the process?
To find joy and growth in what could have been cast off?