Pulling weeds and picking stones

When I grow up I want to sell cut flowers.  At this point I have little faith in my abilities, the elements seem so large and unmanageable, mostly it is just a whisper of a belief that I even could, just over the line into worth trying.  I began with the timidness of lies, little white lies that covered me up in case of failure.

That large plot is for potatoes.  

Oh I will probably just cover it up with clover and try next year.  

I don’t know why he plowed such a big spot!  

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But the truth is, I flagged it out just so.  When I first started working out there in the wide open, I kept my head down when a car passed by, not willing to even straighten up and wave.  I wondered how I looked out there clawing at the earth with a baby on my back and two boys wrestling in the tall grasses.  Likely crazy I could only imagine.

Keeping my head down must have served a purpose because since then I have heaved and hoed many hunks of grass weighing more than me out of that bed.  I have entertained those three boys under an umbrella while we waited for the rain cloud to pass so we could just finish one last row.  I have covered up plants three nights in a row, hoping and pleading with old jack frost to ease up.  And then I have woken up to find he gave me no mercy and willed myself to start over.  I have hauled down our tools (and a baby) in a wooden cart more mornings than not.  And I have worked hard.  Really hard.

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And guess what?  Things are growing.  With every seedling emerged I stand up a bit straighter.  I have been waving to every car that passes by, even those I don’t recognize.  Sometimes with a big smile too.  I have been bold and said the words out loud of what I plan to do.  Of what I hope to see out there growing in those rows.   And as I dig my nails deeper into the soil, that whisper is growing into a hushed voice.  And on really humid days just before a rain sometimes its loud enough to hear.

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It is such a leap to begin believe in ourselves; To truly know we are all such worthy beings with little dreams inside.  Little wishes just floating around waiting to fall onto the tip of our nose and grow.. grow… grow…

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