while visiting christopher's parents, we spent one afternoon helping his mama pick out her spring plants at the local nursery. we made way through the rows, oohing and ahhing over easter lilies and magnolias, azaleas and juniper. i've got such a heart for growing things -- for the alchemy of sun and water and dirt -- and i've got a dream for our own bit of earth someday. i can see it now, as vividly as i can hear the click of these keys i type: bare feet and muddy handprints, laundry flapping on the line, roses i grew myself singing their way up the arbor, someone i grew myself calling me mama.
(how tenderly i hold that dream.)