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| Hyacinth Beans, December 2025 |
Another afternoon walk.
I came to a stop in front of a neighbor's garden when my eye caught the bright purple of hyacinth bean seed pods. They stand out against the shades of green and soft pink sweetheart roses.
I ponder the seeds - the promise they contain for something new that might come to life.
I remember other occasions when I pocketed seeds from trees and flowers. Over the years, I've collected some from an orchid tree in Costa Rica, a mystery plant in Colorado, coral vine from my Mother's garden, something bright orange from the hill country, purple trumpet from a friend.
Last summer, I went through my collection to see what might grow. I lined up the tiny starter pots on the back porch table in hopes they would germinate, take root and grow. Some of them did. Others were overcome by the heat and not enough diligent care.
Why did I collect them and keep them? What took me such a long time to plant them? Why does my gaze land on seeds wherever they are found? How is it that they make my heart feel as if a window has been raised and fresh air blown in?
Something in me must want very much to cultivate life and beauty. Something in me hopes to participate in nurture and growth. Something in me is flat out curious about what will happen with a spade full of dirt and a string of sunny days. Something in me is delighted by what comes from a tiny and humble beginning. Something is me is enamored by possibility.
The gift of pondering seeds - something beautiful, something good.
