Planting

Pale, tiny leaves from seeds I planted in clay pots with my children are poking up from the dirt.  Securely placed beneath purchased potting soil on the porch, the silent seeds have been a source of wonder for two weeks. 

We selected colorful envelopes from a garden display.  We read the directions on the packets.  We scooped black dirt dotted with green beads of fertilizer.  We poked holes the depth of one knuckle and dropped seeds into them (except in the case of teensy thyme which was a sprinkle and cover task).  Oh, to look at those specks in our palms - smaller than a grain of rice and totally different from one another - and trust that they will become basil, thyme, and flowers is an amazing thing.  We watered gently. 

According to the Online Etymology Dictionary, published in 2010 by Douglas Harper, the verb plant - meaning “put in the ground to grow” - is from Old English plantain, from Latin plantare, from planta. 

The seeds I planted on a sunny southern spring day with my children are more than the herbs and flowers they will become.  They are a respect for the unknown and a memory of us together.  I put such forethought and presence into three potted plants on my patio, how much time am I giving to other things I am planting?  What else am I planting now for the future?  Into what ground do I put hopeful seeds?  What will my efforts grow into? 

I hope that I plant love of knowledge by teaching my children to value learning and their education by doing their best work each day at school as well as reading and searching for their own interests intellectually outside of school.  I want to plant seeds of respect for all people when we play soccer, win or lose.  I am hoping that in being a financially responsible person I will plant seeds of sustainability for myself as I move into old age.  I try to plant healthy respect for the physical self as I encourage my kids to try new foods, eat the green stuff, and thank our bodies for continuing to carry us as we push ourselves to finish something like a tiring walk from a fireworks display to our car.  I want to sprinkle seeds of prosperity as I pray for the leadership of our country.  I long to sow love for Earth by making less trash.   

What soil do I fertilize when I repeat gossip?  What do I hope to grow if I stomp the accelerator to speed through a fresh red light?  What am I planting if I do not honor my own need for creative space?  What roots may sprout from the words I choose to scatter? 

I feel certain that everyone’s seed selection and soil is different.  But one thing I know for sure, we are all growing and planting something.