Garden

And this is GARDEN.

My Dad has a green thumb and I think I got some of his gift. I really hate getting dirty, but love the feel of dirt in my hands as I garden. Holding a plant in my palms and decorating the ground or a pot with texture, height and color is really very fun. And calming. I always feel centered after planting things.


So the calligraphic elements you see on my envelopes have resurfaced in many different ways. Swirls and swoops and flourishes and cusps are all the same really - they arrive in different media, they are god speaking to us in the very language we each know intuitively.


This is my garden, and I am that plant. I am those seeds that wait patiently for their turn, who negotiate their arrival above ground with every change of season. I am that patient seed who comes too early and decides to wait for another turn to come back. I am that tree whose root system gets bigger in the winter while at the surface is as quiet as a whisper. I creak in the bleak wind and ache to show the fruit of my efforts to someone who will notice my hard work.

I listen. Wait. Emerge and reach towards light.