I am disarmed by the beauty of spring,
in our friends' garden there is too much to gaze lovingly at or smell sweetly or soak newness in - blossoming trees, bulbs, bush and thicket, and everywhere the bees! I dig away at garden beds I planted out months ago in faith - before we left that I would return for a harvest and in the meantime my friends would see something growing where the ground had been dry, it's hard work breaking the clay, pulling up overgrown radishes and strangled beetroot seedlings, on my knees I grab handfuls of weeds and grasses nudging up around healthy cabbages, fennel bulbs, kale, celery - I am filled with glee at the thin garlic tendrils I spy, I imagine a bountiful purple clove harvest (but am prepared for nothing special) then, I find treasures - in amongst the leaves are broccoli heads mauve purple and lime green; the colours only heirloom seeds can bring, in between clusters of grass are tiny strawberry plants planted seasons ago - I water and listen my small companion chicken chasing or watering can dancing above me the sway and shhh of grey gums whispering, this is spring
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ABOUT the authorEmily Clare Sims is a farmer and mama to three young boys. Each day she looks for ways to notice beauty, contemplate her faith and savour the seasons... Categories
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March 2023
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