lifefullyinhabited

The Siren Song of the Earth

The song begins softly: time to dig, time to plant, time to return to the earth.

I ignore the song at first.  It’s too chilly.  I’m busy with other things.  I’m not ready.

But the ground is ready.  It calls for hands and  shovels to turn the brown crust over. 

Smell the richness that lies underneath.  The life in the loam wants to be brought forth with loving hands. 

I resist.  I listen.  Finally, I can ignore the song no longer.  I must dig.  I don’t know why. 

The generations have imprinted within me  farmers and gardeners and salt of the earth people. 

The season of new life in spring, a power rises in me that I cannot resist.  I return to the roots. 

I return to the ground. 

I dig again.  I plant again. 

I garden once again. 

To plant even a small green thing in a crusty corner of the earth is to plant a garden. 

To garden is to hope, and plan, and dream of better things to come. 

I cannot resist the siren song of hope and new life. 

Why would I want to?