longing

“It seems to me we can never give up longing and wishing while we are still alive.
There are certain things we feel to be beautiful and good, and we must hunger for them.”

― George Eliot

I start most of my days in my garden, often in my morning clothes, my latte in hand. Most days the dog comes with me, nose in the air, making sure the yard is free of unwanted critters that he might need to chaise. I stroll excited to see what unfolded overnight. I do an inventory of the bird baths, which will tell me if I need to water now or if it can wait until evening. The garden is never the same, roses unfold as leaves turn color, and I hunger for what I might find.

By the time September rolls around I am more than ready to but the garden to bed. We will get a load of compost in a few weeks and he will turn it into the vegetable beds to break down over the winter. I will dig the dahlia tubers and tuck them into the garage, crossing my fingers they will survive.

As our climate changes I have had to learn to give and take from my gardens. Leaning new tricks and ways to make things flourish.

For there are certain things I feel to be beautiful and good and I hunger for them.

***