Faith as Small as a Watercress Seed

It’s the time of year for starting seeds, some indoors and some out.

Tim has built these sweet raised beds all over the yard, which not only lengthen the growing season, but also make various gardening tasks easier and more comfortable. He’s even put little bench-like surfaces on some of the edges so I can sit and weed (or pick out the seemingly-endless supply of stones and pebbles in the soil.)

I’m really not much for pointless exercising, but I love physical exertion when it has a point, like hiking to a summit or a lake, or just  going grocery shopping with my little red cart, or walking to the pizza place a mile away (ha!) or hacking away at clods of dirt and grass in the garden. It feels good, and I love being in the sunshine and fresh air. Yesterday, I did lots of writing and almost no gardening, and I felt crabby and irritable for it; I feel much better when there’s a balance to my day–part contemplative and part breaking ground and clearing beds.

But I did get these seeds started. I was going to buy a soil-block maker, this nifty thing that makes little blocks for seed-starting out of nothing but soil, but we had loads of containers left, and I recalled that the greenest products are the ones you don’t buy, so I just used what we had.

And here’s where I’m going to confess something: I can’t really believe the mystery.

How does a seed so small you can barely see it explode with such radiant, fragrant, delicious life? In years past I’ve put too many seeds in one little pot because it didn’t seem possible that one would do the job.

{Don’t worry; I’ve learned my lesson. But I’m still doubting.}

Faith: believing that ratatouille, eggplant parmesan, and baba ganoush will come from these unlikely-looking specks, plus dirt, plus water, plus sun…

…and the First Gardener’s ever-sustaining hand.

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3 thoughts on “Faith as Small as a Watercress Seed

  1. “the First Gardener’s ever-sustaining hand.” Well put, Rachel.

    If I had one of those name tags on, I’d want it to say “Hello, my name is Rutabaga”. Not because I feel like a root vegetable, but because it would make me laugh to hear someone call my name out loudly across the room.


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