Pretty seedy things

 The seeds are here! They have come! They have arrived!

This is year three of our little garden. The first year it was a tiny ring around a little lamp post out front. The second year it expanded not only around the lamp post, but we took out a wooden deck in the back, put in a gravel patio and somehow plants found their way into that space, too. 

Now, year three, we're branching out into seeds. This very moment in our dining room there is a fancy full-spectrum light bulb waiting to shine its life-giving rays onto pepper seeds, if only they would sprout into seedlings (the first batch grew an impressive crop of mold, you see. We're trying a little less watering this time.) I'm also going to try to fill corners in the garden and pots galore with flowers grown from seed. That's the plan, anyway. Have you any idea how tiny flower seeds are?  I'm supposed to just drop them onto the earth and hope that, against all odds of wind, rain, and squirrels, they manage to cling to the soil, drink in the sun, send delicate roots into the ground, and grow into beautiful, jubilant, fragrant flowers. They do it all the time in the wild without me watching over them, worrying about their comfort and their fate, so I suppose I can trust that some of them, anyway, will make it, these pretty, seedy things.