May 11, I worked up the soil under my front window, added some compost, tucked tiny annual flowers into the chilly soil. Night came. I tarped my precious garden in case of frost. Too early. I know the gardener’s rule for my part of Ontario: no planting annuals before May 24th, or better yet, June 1. Why am I so foolish?
We’ve had a year and a half of Covid restrictions. A year and a half of doing our best to care for ourselves and others. We’ve watched the statistics fall to new depths. We knew the lock down would be extended. I’m blessed. I’ve received my vaccination.
It’s spring. I want new life. I’ve had enough. I’m desperate to break out. I’m used to wearing a mask. I’ve learned to endure social distancing. Enjoy either? Please don’t ask. I want to hug our Vancouver grandchildren, our friends in Montreal. I hate shopping on line. I’m on the edge. My foolish little garden has given me the ability to break the rules without hurting other human. My tiny plants may be shivering in the cold soil. Covering them at night may not be enough. Still, that’s better than my risking the lives of family, friends, strangers.
Two more weeks is not that much longer. My tiny garden is my rebellion. Today, I pray,
Lord give us all strength to continue live with the Covid restrictions.
Open our eyes, minds, ears and hearts to the beauty of spring.
May the new life springing forth around us give us courage and determination to
Give our leaders wisdom in their decisions.
“By their fruits shall ye know them.” (Mt.7: 15)