I live in a rented townhouse that I will most likely be moving out of in a few months.  Yet, as spring approaches I find myself outside in the flower beds, pulling weeds and replanting what was killed in the last hard freeze.  As I pulled one prickly weed after another, I wondered to myself why I do this?

Year after year, no matter the place I find myself, I weed and plant.  I can chronicle my time on earth by the flowers I have planted.  Some here, some there.  Some probably long dead, some might be flourishing with new owners.  But every place I have been, I have left behind life.

Even in the most hostile environments, where everyone said nothing could grow…I left behind a thriving garden filled with lavender and lambs ear.  I realized today, that this is what I do.

I plant things.  I leave people and places better than when I found them.  And not everyone does that.  Some stomp out life.  I plant life.