They sit on the porch. Blank canvases, waiting.
Planting in spring is full of anticipation. Some seeds sprout in a matter of days, all within a week or two.
Planting in autumn is a measure of hope. The long winter lies ahead. Yet hidden in ordinary brown soil lie coloured treasures. Spring will come again. And so we wait.
Grey clouds rush across the sky today. Rain spats against the windows. Fistfuls of leaves fly from the trees.
Their brief wild dance ends as they hit the wet ground and there they lie in a sodden heap, golden fading into brown.
Life is not a matter of whether or not we wait. Waiting is a given. We wait for seasons, for dinner, for children. Time passes and we wait. The question is, how do we wait well?
Finding satisfaction and joy in the everyday moments is one way. Looking for the good in life, and there is much good.
Today I bake bread, make soup, tidy my home and take pleasure in the mundane that is made meaningful by my attitude.
And so I wait, for spring to bring the brown earth of my pots to life, for whatever the grey clouds bring today, for sharing soup and bread with those I love.
How do you wait well?