I had fresh thyme on my salmon tonight. Tiny green leaves, world of flavour, 15 steps away on my front deck. Cheap, too. $3 per plant at the farmers market. And a miracle, firstly because it hasn’t died, and because in the next few months it could double its size. Plants in our world are everywhere: underfoot, overhead, on our window sills, in our gardens. They also inhabit a special place in our emotions. My sweet little grandmother became an axe murderer when a dandelion dared to appear on her lawn. The scent of wild roses takes my mother back to her childhood on Nova Scotia’s rocky, salt-kissed south shore. The smell of lilacs, well, we all know there is a special story there. Someday, you’ll get to read it …. But enough about that for the moment. Love them for food and beauty or detest them as weeds, plants are wondrous. Some lucky people can grow them. I’m working on my gardening skills, because there is peace to be found in the dirt, a sense of purpose to be seen in living creations that are rooted yet unique. My gift to self today: appreciate a plant, any plant. My herb garden. My perennials that grow despite my lack of empathy. The neighbours’ lush cedar bushes. And of course, for a few days yet, the lilacs. Book or no book, they’re still beautiful.
Thanks for reading. See you tomorrow.