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.