What is waiting under the dirt?

That's a great question to ask not just when you inherit a garden, but every season. Right now our garden is bursting with mint and lemon balm and berries. A few lettuces are struggling to survive. One variety is definitely not to be invited back next year -- immediately after replanting it succumbed to some kind of bug.

Even though I'm the gardener, something always surprises me in the spring. What are those little green shoots? I vaguely remember planting something in the rainy season. But now, I'll just have to wait.

There's a metaphor in there somewhere, I'm sure. Sometimes I read my horoscope and it says things like: Look back ten years, or twelve. What seeds did you plant that are coming to fruition now?

Who knows? I'll just have to wait to see what's under the dirt of my life. The planting, the digging, the pulling of weeds. The patient watering and watching. Considering what survives easily, and what seems like too much trouble. Noticing, remembering to notice, what brings me joy.

The garden is abundant right now. Soon, it will start to die back again. And then we will wait to see what wants to live. What wants to thrive in the rain and the sun and the gardener's intermittent attention.