Bulbs are planted – except I might try to buy just a few more this week.  Straw is laid in dense flakes in the paths, and layered softly over the beds, so the rain will get in and the snow will melt through.  I weeded the new plot, and that’s the minimum it needed.  The clocks changed, and I was late for breakfast with my cousin.  Because.  I still can’t get that change straight.

It’s time to look forward and inward.  I find it easy to get those two confused.  Looking inward to try to change the past.  Looking forward to see the same thing happening again.

The garden is a helpful check on that confusion.  The seeds and the bulbs and the bees and the other creatures are very clear about time, and when things happen.  From them, I’m learning I can dream away, crowding the beds with more flowers than I can possibly raise, and not mind at all that I won’t know how things will really turn out.  And I can take a break, and let things be – because there’s nothing I can do to change the garden as it sleeps.