Tibault & Toad

look closely

(More lemonade, this time with fresh mint. Late night bath time, with a little brother who thinks splashing is hilarious. After-dinner smoothies, a can of full fat coconut milk with frozen tropical fruit. Seedlings under the grow lights, peppers and tomatoes pictured.)

Even though it's only 45 degrees out there right now, make no mistake about it: spring is nudging its way in. If I squint hard I can see the buds on the neighbors' trees just beginning to show the faintest whisper of green, and I can hear the birds (thank goodness they go by the hours of daylight and NOT the temperature) chirping faintly through the window. Monday was in the mid-sixties. Alan cleaned the porch, the cousins came over and played in the yard, and I raked the leaves out of one of the raised bed in preparation for some of the early seeds. I uncovered the garlic that Indy and I planted in the fall, and when I crouched down to check on it (it has, indeed, sent up beautiful green shoots!), the uncovered soil was teaming with thousands of new worms. The sight made me gasp and nearly brought me to tears. All winter long, stuck inside, and feeling so lifeless. Even looking outside you see only monotone shades of brown and grey. Yet there in the soil, so small that you have to lean close enough to smell the sharp notes of rotting leaves, there is life! (If it wasn't lent I would have let out a hallelujah!) It is undeniably gracious and good.

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