Seeds of Hope

One of the things that sent me into urban gardening a few years ago was a mental health emergency admonishing me to find a healing respite from the demands of life. A hope-sparking highlight each year is seed starting time.

With lists made and diagrams drawn, each delicate deposit of seed into soil lifts light to be shed on an otherwise stressful life filled with pandemic parenting, work demands, and caring for the increasing number of family members and neighbors in need of support.

In years past, I remember hustling through the steps of seed starting, like a factory worker focused on earning some kind of efficiency bonus. However, this year the goal is to focus on the hopeful potential of each seed with their promises of pantry-filling salsas, pickles, and sauces. Each seed offers the whisper of harvest-accompanying giggles peppering the yard while our daughters bask in the joy of hard-earned bounty.

Sure... I'll have to get the grow lights just right this year to avoid leggy seedlings and improve my process for hardening them off before transferring to the garden. But at a time when so much energy is spent considering and reconsidering decisions made as a parent, citizen, and human, I am ever so grateful for the hope lifting oasis of seed starting.