Tonight, with the possibility of frost hanging in the chilly air, I wrapped up in my gray wool and alpaca cardigan and stepped out into the twilight. I carried a bundle of old linens to my fledgling kitchen garden and tucked my herbs in for the night, the orange and white striped sheets making it look like a middle school campout, and I secretly longed for a campfire and starlight.
As I walked through my small garden, the black-capped chickadees came to visit, gathering seeds one by one in their tiny beaks. I hugged my sweater tighter and took in the work I've done over the past few days. The strawberry plants are blooming in their new spot. The peas are flowering too, and the lettuce seedlings in the raised bed are lined up like a parade, just waiting for a cymbal crash of sunshine to spring into action. The peppermint, lemon balm, and Kentucky Colonel spearmint are growing strong already, lush green growth stark against the cinnamon-colored soil.
I picked a handful of peppermint leaves for a cup of hot tea, crushing them just slightly between my fingers so I could breathe in their fresh scent. I lingered as the darkness began to fall, returning to the house only when the sounds of a neighbor and his dog broke through my garden reverie, scattering my thoughts like seeds for the chickadees.
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I hope your night is warm and filled with simple comforts like fresh tea from the garden and the work of your own two hands.
What a lovely post full of detail and full of smelling the roses so to speak.
ReplyDeleteI was right there with you in the garden, in the night and in the words.
ReplyDeleteI was right there with you in the garden, in the night and in the words.
ReplyDeleteI would love to see a picture of your garden! We're thinking about trying one again this year and I'm looking for inspirational ideas!
ReplyDeleteBeautiful post.
ReplyDeleteI often feel so blessed as many of my lovely nights are filled with fresh tea and love from other people's gardens. :)