WATERING THE WET

I just got to thinking about how wet it has been, how I just cannot stand the muggy-scent of all the drying carpet and the covering scents of all those anti-microbialfungicidalgermkillingdeodorizing sprays we’ve sprayed over and over as things get back to normal.

It’s still cloudy out, but with no forecast of any of it pouncing upon us in the next few days, and hopes are high to plant the garden tomorrow and Monday. We’ll probably have to re-till, for a Liliput-forest of maples has covered the entire plot, testament to the will of the wisps which whirled down to cover the bare dirt.

And the post this week about planting the tomatoes---I re-read that just now, thinking that the token gesture with that tiny watering can was so sweet, totally un-needed except by the little wielder of the water. The dirt was sogged past bearing in the pots, the yard spongy and grass-wet to the step, and still the small nod to the usual method.

The plants certainly didn’t need more moisture, but SHE needed to do her part in the planting and in the nurture. It’s just what you DO. You give things/people/projects/ideas the import they deserve. They all need a good start and good care and good management as they make their way, as they grow and flourish.

And the plants did not get nearly the benefit from the watering that our BabyGirl got from the doing; she took that little green can back and forth from hose to pot four times---once for each pot, getting a cup or so of water into the fresh dirt each time. And she beamed. She was accomplishing a great thing.

Perhaps it’s her Mammaw genes, or those from my Daddy, or the great long line of farmers in her Daddy’s heritage, but she wanted to water those tomatoes, and we helped her. Her purpose was good; her heart was in it, her mission was true---truer than her aim, which sent a scatter over her little pink clogs, dampening socks and pajama-cuffs.

We all came into the house triumphant, fulfilled with the completion of a worthy task, and had our breakfast.

And she was happiest of all. She’d stood in the meager sunlight, fulfilling her duty, giving what she had---a cup of water and a good start.

And that’s a whole sermon in a little green pot.