Last spring, after a lifetime of zero garden know-how, I decided to plant a flower garden. I adore the bold sprays of blooms sold at farmer’s markets but can never justify spending the money. So in March I bought packets of seeds, did a little research and scattered them out in a patch of dirt. I was dubious, it couldn’t be this easy. As summer warmed the ground, little plants began to grow. And grow. Suddenly I have 5-foot zinnias in my backyard.
Zinnias are damn hardy — they require little more than extra water on dry days — and now my home has a bounty of blooms which I get to replenish regularly.
Not unlike two hardy boys who are doing just fine, thank you. It’s not that I can just let them grow un-mothered, of course (with all the requisite worry), but I see they are going to be perfectly themselves no matter how much I fret about the world in which they grow.
They grow, faces to the sun — tall and happy. They are both so happy. And ultimately this is enough. Water, sunshine and love, that’s really all we need right now.