Springtime Whispers Awakening the Garden

For the past few weeks, spring has been whispering in my ear. I've found myself studying my back garden, mentally pruning here and clearing dead brush there, painting early blooms with sunshine. I imagine our three chickens pecking their way through my raised garden beds, keeping the heirloom tomatoes, little pickles, and sweet basil safe from pests.

Today we emerged from indoors, rebirthed after a long winter and a fallow summer. I hoed weeds from the garden pathways. My young son raked dead crispy leaves into a large crevice we will later plant with sunflowers. My husband puttered about organizing old lumber and picking up strewn trash. Even our teen daughter pitched in, scooping an entire season's worth of dog poop in exchange for some spending money. The family dog sat regally in the beam of sunshine beside the compost bin, keeping watch over our tasks as the chickens roamed the yard picking at bugs and weeds.

As we hoed and raked and pruned, I found signs that our garden is waking up. Fresh daffodil stems pushing out of the ground, their golden buds beginning to form. Tiny green fingers sprouting from the weathered clematis vines twisted about a rickety old arbor. A tender curled leaf, striped in shades of red, reaching up from decomposed rhubarb leaves like the hand of a small child.

Spring in the garden is much like nurturing a young child, waiting to see how she will thrill, delight, and surprise us next. We will tend to her needs and care for her with affection and patience until she is established and blooming, rooted deep in our love.