Typing is a strange thing. Sometimes, it seems as though my fingers are faster than my brain. Do my subconscious thoughts sometimes flow from my fingers as I place the words upon the pages? I think so. Sometimes when I begin to type “chi…”, chicken will automatically appear on the page, typed by my hands. When it was supposed to be chill, children, chip or the like. Today, as I was entering the title of this post when I came to the word “Hop” my fingers typed Hope.
Perhaps my mind is trying to tell me something. Life around Tilly’s Nest has been taking its sweet time to emerge from its winter slumber. The chickens are now laying eggs regularly everyday. The gardens are beginning to bloom. The spring peepers are croaking in the pond and gentle evening breezes blow through the window fragrances of life; hope.
These past few weeks I have spent many hours tending to the gardens. Connecting with delicate new fronds of ferns, dainty Lilies of the Valley blooms, and gently mulching around the tenderest of tiny stalks of Lavender. All these give me hope. Audrey Hepburn said it best, “To plant a garden is to believe in tomorrow.”
The Columbines are blooming.
The tulips I planted l
ast fall are spectacular.
The Robins have returned to nest.
The bees are busy in the gardens.
The garden is beginning to grow.
Photo Credit: Tilly’s Nest
