Under a Red Roof

This past Sunday, I got up early and roamed the garden while the hubster slept. I love doing this. I love looking at all that is growing, and sometimes dying, and admiring the work of nearly twelve years. I love that there is birdsong and the buzz of insects and hummingbirds, and evidence of things unseen, like snail trails, and paw prints, and empty spider webs. While there remains much to do, as I have such grand plans, I am always energized by my work in the garden. I love the meditative quality of pulling weeds, mowing grass, watering, planting, the ceaseless cycles. They remind me of my own body, mind, and spirit, and how there is always more to do, see, and grow, and that the effort is always worthwhile and beautiful, no matter how challenging.