The garden used to be one of my favorite places... full of flowers, herbs, little kitty footprints, and big summer plans. These days, it’s mostly weeds and good intentions.
But lately, I’ve been feeling the pull to return. Not with a grand plan. Just a trowel, a few hopeful seedlings, and a quiet heart ready to begin again.
I dream of color... hydrangea, lavender, forsythia. Maybe a small vegetable patch with tomatoes warm from the sun. A corner bench under the pear tree, a book in my lap, coffee in hand. Maybe even a fountain, if I dare.
The garden doesn’t need to be perfect. It just needs to be loved. A little every day.
In tending it, I’m learning to tend to myself. To slow down. To start small. To believe that something beautiful can grow again... even here.