Waiting for signs of life...

I don't know if I can tell you how inspired and grateful I feel when I see sprouts coming up from seeds I planted on my window sill.  I plant in hope, in doubt, and in wonder; and then I'm SO SURPRISED and delighted when an undeniable bending head of new life is rising toward the sun, the air, ... my world.  I squeal, I hop, then I breathe on it and talk to it.  "Heeeeere, take my carbon dioxide, IIIIII doooon't neeeeeeed it!  Bless you, little sprout.  Weeelcooome.  Ahhhhhhhhh."  Then I sing, "You are welcome.  Hello!  Hi, Hi, hi!"  -You'd think I was a new mom or something!  And I guess, in a way, I am.  Hearty as they may become, right now they are totally dependent on me to tend to them and keep them from the cold outside, to get them more soil when their snaking roots reach outside their bounds, and of course, to water them when they're thirsty.

And yet they are still so fragile.

When should I transplant them?

Will they bear fruit?

Will the hail decimate them mid summer?

Will the deer trample them and eat their tender leaves?

I don't know.

But I love the adventure of growing plants from seed.

I've never done that before with some of these, especially starting inside.

The boys requested watermelon, and with our short growing season up here, I thought we should start now.

But only one in 18 of those has come up.

So far.

Will the others follow?

I wait...

I breathe...  HAAAHHHHH

And I hope.

It's tough to be a good Mom.  I know that already.  But somehow watching this life grow before me, following some ingrained code, I realize -- there is only so much I can do.  I am not entirely responsible for their life or death.  For the seeds that take and the ones that don't, For their beauty and originality -- the large leaf pumpkin or the spindly onion -- and I can't take credit for their vibrancy.

But I can admire, nurture and celebrate their zest for life.

Wonder if I can apply that to my tall young ones?

Hmmm....