It's something she used to say, somehow making it sound both off-handed and reverent. As a child, I never really understood what she meant. Summer was full of so many wonderful things: swimming pools, garage sales, bike riding, popsicles - what was so great about standing in your own backyard, fingernails full of dirt, sweat pouring down your forehead, back aching as you tugged at a stubborn weed?
I think I get it now.
|Swiss chards and mustard greens - grow little hipsters, grow!|
When we bought our house in September 2012 it already had a cute little planter box, mostly left unloved as the previous owners had been gone since April. There were some bushes spilling over from the neighbours' side, a stubborn pine tree hanging over the fence that did no one any good, and a largely empty stone-wall-bordered garden that ran the length of the fence. Lots of potential, but not a lot actively going on.
|An awkward view of part of the fence-length garden|
|Chives, tomatoes, cucumbers, beans, greens, peas, and squash all doing their thing.|
I'm not religious, but I think I understand what my mother was talking about. Faith as small as a mustard seed is all you need to make big things possible.