As i soften into my life as a 48 year old,
As i spend time listening and attending to my heart and my callings
I am blessed with the evidence of miracles
Now that photo above may not look like evidence of a miracle,
but it is.
You see a few months ago i bought some seeds from an heirloom seed protection group whose work is a miracle. Combing old farms and family collections for seeds that have grown up in the unique area i live in. They are holding space literally and figuratively for the ancient to have a place in the world. They do not dismiss "old" as synonymous with past it's best and non innovative. They cherish the old for its wisdom and subtle gifts.
But this is not the miracle i want to focus on (although bless Taonga gardens to the heavens).
Look closely at the intricate patterns there - see how those soft-curved diamonds fit together so beautifully.
A miracle!
rest my case.
No actually i don't. As miraculous as that design is - done without the aid of computers and engineering degrees the old sunflower head is not the miracle.
The miracle is that i got a seed from the Taonga folk and put it in the darkness of soil.
I tended it with water and attention.
And when the sprout came and strengthened i placed it in my garden.
Some of the seedlings got eaten by snails.
But some of them made it.
And the miracle is they made it.
The miracle is as humans we get to make it here at all
I rest my case.
No actually I don't.
As i spend time listening and attending to my heart and my callings
I am blessed with the evidence of miracles
Now that photo above may not look like evidence of a miracle,
but it is.
You see a few months ago i bought some seeds from an heirloom seed protection group whose work is a miracle. Combing old farms and family collections for seeds that have grown up in the unique area i live in. They are holding space literally and figuratively for the ancient to have a place in the world. They do not dismiss "old" as synonymous with past it's best and non innovative. They cherish the old for its wisdom and subtle gifts.
But this is not the miracle i want to focus on (although bless Taonga gardens to the heavens).
Look closely at the intricate patterns there - see how those soft-curved diamonds fit together so beautifully.
A miracle!
rest my case.
No actually i don't. As miraculous as that design is - done without the aid of computers and engineering degrees the old sunflower head is not the miracle.
The miracle is that i got a seed from the Taonga folk and put it in the darkness of soil.
I tended it with water and attention.
And when the sprout came and strengthened i placed it in my garden.
Some of the seedlings got eaten by snails.
But some of them made it.
And the miracle is they made it.
The miracle is as humans we get to make it here at all
I rest my case.
No actually I don't.
The miracle is that those surviving plants grew over 7 feet tall some of them!
Taller than me. In such a short time.
The miracle is out of these towering shoots came these blessings of such vibrant yellow that every time i saw them i could not help smiling.
The miracle is they turned to gather each ray of sunlight they could as the day shifted.
The miracle is they closed to rest at night.
The miracle is they survived the sheild beetles and the snails and heavens knows what other bugs in my ramshackle garden to keep going.
The miracle is that the bees came and lovingly tended the sunflower, buzzing their delight over the glorious life affirming yellow that they are taking away pollen to the hive to tend their own miraculous life.
The miracle is they were there and beautiful whether they were seen or written about or photographed or had poems (or blog posts ha!) written about them.
The miracle is that i could pick them at the end of their biggest flowering as they kept on sending out new bloom after new bloom and i could furnish the space my family live in with this vibrant shout out to life that is a sunflower.
The miracle is that as the petals drooped and began to fall the truth of the magnificence that is hidden became evident.
Taller than me. In such a short time.
The miracle is out of these towering shoots came these blessings of such vibrant yellow that every time i saw them i could not help smiling.
The miracle is they turned to gather each ray of sunlight they could as the day shifted.
The miracle is they closed to rest at night.
The miracle is they survived the sheild beetles and the snails and heavens knows what other bugs in my ramshackle garden to keep going.
The miracle is that the bees came and lovingly tended the sunflower, buzzing their delight over the glorious life affirming yellow that they are taking away pollen to the hive to tend their own miraculous life.
The miracle is they were there and beautiful whether they were seen or written about or photographed or had poems (or blog posts ha!) written about them.
The miracle is that i could pick them at the end of their biggest flowering as they kept on sending out new bloom after new bloom and i could furnish the space my family live in with this vibrant shout out to life that is a sunflower.
The miracle is that as the petals drooped and began to fall the truth of the magnificence that is hidden became evident.
The miracle is the tiny florets in the center of the sunflower showed their secret purse of life.
The miracle is that there was space in each one for the potential for new life. Hundreds of new chances for a new miracle to occur.
The miracle is that the smaller heads, when i took them off or pulled the plant past it's glory out and laid it on the lawn became food for the sparrows.
The miracle is the sparrows know about the seeds.
The miracle is the seed fuels the sparrow to fly with its heart-fluttering busy-ness to tend its young and its nest.
The miracle is I get to take those seeds and start again.
The miracle is that there was space in each one for the potential for new life. Hundreds of new chances for a new miracle to occur.
The miracle is that the smaller heads, when i took them off or pulled the plant past it's glory out and laid it on the lawn became food for the sparrows.
The miracle is the sparrows know about the seeds.
The miracle is the seed fuels the sparrow to fly with its heart-fluttering busy-ness to tend its young and its nest.
The miracle is I get to take those seeds and start again.
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