It's my sign to kick back each year, step out of things a bit, and listen more fully to the callings of my soul so I can hear and heed my next steps. It's the day I plant Mr. Stripey . And that day has come.
The crimson clover, hairy vetch and winter rye is towering in a new spot I planted last fall. Birds flutter away every time I walk by, and rabbits hide in there. They make me smile, reminding me that even though much more is possible, now is nice, too.
The garden right outside my kitchen door overflows with abundance, during what is the most mild spring I've ever experienced in Atlanta, a year when perhaps I'll actually have lettuce and tomatoes at the same time (which is not typical here). Some of the seeds of ideas I planted have grown as well, and others have not. The place or pace is not right for them. Or maybe they're just stupid, or things about which only I care. And so I let go.
My life is changing. My world is getting bigger. I am moving on. And for now, while Mr. Stripey grows, I will clear out the cobwebs in my mind and the constraints on my calendar so I am ready for new, fertile ground.