The seeds I put into peat pots last week have sprouted. The tiny dry brown flakes and little roundish bits of nothing have produced bits of tender green waving about on the slenderest of stalks. To really look at what has happened from any kind of reasonable perspective is to witness the utterly preposterous. But my mother taught me to plant gardens and watch closely. I expected this all along. And still, I’m unreasonably astonished and delighted.
Each time I pass the glare of the grow light in my office, I pause to greet the tiny fellows lined up in their trays. Each one is clearly committed to its path toward a summer exposition of beauty.
I pause and smile to myself. Here it is - the unspeakable – the grandeur of God – the one true way. Right under my nose all the time. At last, I can call off the search and get down to business. I go into the kitchen and make a cup of tea.