“It’s hard to resist, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, I always walk by the plant section when I’m in here.  I’m tempted to buy plants, even in the dead of winter when I know they’ll freeze.”

We both laugh at ourselves and then push our buggies our separate ways along the grocery aisle.

I wasn’t kidding, though.  I’m addicted to plants.  I have spring fever, even when it’s below freezing outside.  This spring fever becomes even more irresistible when the weather turns, and the world glows greener every day, with morning glories and fields of purple and yellow spread beneath blue skies.

Even the looming threat of summer heat and wasp season, which was the bane of my apartment life last year, can’t wilt my enthusiasm.  I pull out packets of unspent flower seeds, place empty pots on my dining table, and begin to let myself hope again.  I research my first grow light and put it in my office at work.  Beneath it sits my first African violet—still alive a month and a half later, despite worrisome brown leaves early on.  Some hopes don’t sprout, like the bare dirt in the little pot next to the violet…while others do.  I forgot I had planted seeds around my new caladium until I saw the tiniest sprigs of green unfurling beneath it when I watered my plants this evening.  What a fun surprise!  Sometimes forgetting and then remembering brings its own kind of delight.  Now, I’m trying to remember if I did the same thing in my begonia pot.  Only time and sprigs of green will tell.

My gardening motto revolves around the phrases “long-lasting flower arrangement” and “still alive.”  The former is my reasoning for money spent on plants.  At least I can enjoy them while they’re alive, and they last longer and usually cost less than cut flowers.  The latter is my bar for success.  My plants may not always thrive, but as long as I can keep them alive, then that’s a win.  Which then makes me start singing this song internally.  If you substitute a few words like seeds and planting into the lyrics, the opening stanzas are almost the story of my gardening life.

Why do I return each year to my plot of unsuccess and empty pots?  Perhaps it is an echo of my Creator, who loves and finds joy in his Creation even when giving up, abandoning, or starting over with something entirely new would seem the reasonable option.  Why give a million chances?  Hope always does seem like a foolish plan from our human perspective, especially when not grounded in faith and love—two other things that seem foolishness to many.  But thankfully, my hope for greater things than any garden is grounded in that soil.  And I know those seeds will sprout, that garden grow, even when my apartment porch garden doesn’t.

In addition to the joy, however temporary, that sprouting seeds and beautiful flowers bring me each year, I find it’s refreshing to work in a garden.  Some of the best lessons are waiting to be dug up or grown while gardening, after all.

“Hope Springs”

Hope springs
In planted pots
On my apartment porch
Each year as winter turns
Away, a bit more every day.

As each dawn greener springs
And birdsong brightly wakes
The world to
Cool rain or warm sun,
Playful breezes go and come.

As seedling leaves unfurl,
And buds begin to wake,
On my apartment porch
In planted pots,
Hope springs.