is the energy to dig in rain softened earth, and me, with kids at my elbows, stomping the shovel into the ground. A sack full of shared-from-a-friend iris bulbs lies waiting.
Hoping it is not too late, as light frost has already found us, I lay them in their winter beds. Sleep well, iris bulbs. The earth is soft and warm tonight. The ground is fragrant, soft from the rain, so I will let you rest. And I will cover you and leave you in the maker's hands, and hope, come spring, to smell your worshiping fragrance. And hope, come spring, that you will teach me about resting and about growing, about seasons, and about blooming where planted. Teach me about beauty and about sharing and about peace.