The thinks in my brain? They float and flit and maybe end up on a blog page. Maybe they’ll end up in a book someday. Maybe they’ll simply disappear beneath the worm moon going nowhere at all.
My makeshift greenhouse. It doesn’t look like much yet, only a bright window in the garage. Impossibly small seeds sprinkled into soil, watered with a dribble, fussed over, talked to as though I’m “in charge of the last of the Truffula seeds.
And Truffula trees are what everyone needs.”
Happy coleus cuttings. Tangled roots buried in soil. Baby succulents all in a row.
Eight rose bushes. I cut them back. Even through gloves, thorns a plenty prick my hands. Later they will bloom frothy pink.
Hyacinth grows in odd places. John digs up heavy clumps, the bulbs round and firm like yellow onions. I plant them in other places. Truth be told, I’m not sure they’re hyacinth at all. It doesn’t matter. They grow healthy and green. Soon, they’ll reveal themselves.
The thinks in my brain?
Today, in honor of Dr. Seuss’s birthday and Read Across America Day, I’ll read a few words and talk to the trees like the Lorax. I’ll add more books to our Little Free Library. I’ll write more words, nonsense and all.
“It’s not about what it is, it’s about what it can become.”
Grace Grits and Gardening
Farm. Food. Garden. Life.
The Onceler Discovers the Truffula Tree