Farming

I've been farming lately, or at least I like to think of it that way. I know the more accurate term is gardening. I'm not growing cash crops. I'm not driving a tractor, or a bailer, or a combine. It's just me and my spade and the tiny containers of hopeful shoots and buds - their fate depending completely on my ability to connect them to the life giving earth. They wilt and moan and generally hang their heads with hopelessness as they wait for me to decide where they will go. Days pass. Their heads droop further. Finally I decide. I'm not good at preparing their nest. I don't have the patience. A turn of the spade and they've been dropped into their hole. A good watering. This I have patience for. I count to 20 or 30, or 75 if it's a tree. And then they are on their own. I check in everyday. I watch their progress, trying to figure out what to do if they don't take. Usually they grow. And it amazes me that I can do this.