Saturday, March 7, 2009
New Life: Early Spring and Inner Stirrings
I've a stow away growing inside, a thirteen-week-old fetus who already has a name and for whom we looked at bunkbeds today. As humans we plan. We get caught up (I get caught up) in the next few years, living in this house with two small children, with a bunkbed and a single income (not mine) and thoughts of schooling and college funds and all-important middle names.
Meanwhile, in the garden the garlic my daughter and I planted last fall is three inches tall, erect and proud and bright green. Daffodils and tulips have taken courage from the garlic sprouts, and are also a couple inches tall, braving the still freezing nights. It's been warm during the day, so I who sleep in a heated and insulated house at night find it hard to believe more hasn't sprouted - and yet I am also held to the truth of time and natural unfolding by the plants' tentative gestures. All in good time.
I think of my babe like one of the pea seeds I planted at the end of February as soon as the soil could be worked (a tease in Colorado, since we can still have several hard freezes). I wanted to peek, so I dug up one of the seeds and YES! it has germinated, just a teeny bit. Though it still may very well freeze and not sprout.
In a few weeks I will probably peek at my baby with an ultrasound, too. Oh, how I long to probe the secrets of the world and peek beneath the soil... but: the pea is not ready to sprout. I tucked it back beneath the composty soil, and I give thanks my little fetus is safe in my womb, undisturbed. All in good time.
Such are the lessons of patience, faith, and waiting for all good things to pass. February and March are impatient times for me. So too is the first trimester of pregnancy. But I'm learning, slowly. The Goddess offers much to gently remind me that all in good time will things flourish and bloom. Maybe some year I won't put out seeds a month early. At least it's not tomatoes, like I planted three months early my first spring here... and again several springs later. Oh, do I get restless. Trust. I need to learn some trust and faith and patience. It's a good thing babies come exactly when they are supposed to.
May your garden and your health be blessed this early spring.
Written by Clea Danaan
Clea Danaan grew up in the Pacific Northwest; she now lives in Colorado. she is the author of five books relating to nature-centered spirituality and natural family living. She writes about nature mysticism, chickens, homeschooling, permaculture, and more. Her books have been published in more than six countries and translated into several languages, including French and German.