Little Miracles

I'm pretty much in love with spring and summer.

The spasms of crazy growth, bright colors and explosions of sunshine and flavor, feeling the wind blow up my skirt, seeing storm clouds gather on the horizon after a long drought, hearing rain fall, all make my heart open like a flower.

Seasons come and go in life, love, time, weather, passions.

Bright summer mellows into the gold of autumn, followed closely by months of quiet and white cold.

Seasons come and go, and come again; each time returning - just a bit differently, holding new possibilities and a changed perspective.

...

Watering the garden today I found yet another volunteer mystery vegetable popping up in one of my containers. It's vaguely squash-ish with tender buds opening deep beneath those umbrella leaves.

Squash, if that's what it is (I'm not sure yet), is incredibly hardy, as you might expect of a staple of this high desert mesa and its people.

The seed that sprouted here has survived deep freezes, scorching heat, cycles of flood and drought, burial and excavation, worms, ants, and the composter's shovel. This is the second one (the other is slowly crowding out the thyme) and both are doing better mixed with flowers and herbs than the one I actually planted in the garden proper.

I pulled up what I thought was a grass stem beside it, only to find that it was ginger root, about half as thick as my little finger, but definitely ginger. I patted it right back and hope to heck it will grow.

I find it just amazing that this:

turns into this:

and, tested by the vagaries of climate, eluding foraging robins and scavenging mice, enriched and strengthened by the company it keeps there in the compost bin and the garden soil...becomes this:

all over again.

Little deaths.

New shoots,

new roots