Sowing Hope

Spinach and swiss chard are stretching skyward by my front walk, their tender young shoots enjoying the warm bits of morning sunshine at each new day. Eyes closed and salivating, I imagine the combinations we'll create when the hens finally join us. Our future holds fritattas.
Elsewhere at the SemiFarm, strawberry petals lightly coat the rich dark soil. A cloud opens up and all traces of hoofprints are washed away, leaving little evidence of the wayward foragers. Lilac blossoms give way to dense green foliage and bare branches are shielded from sky.
Spring fades toward summer as humidity peaks and dark clouds of thunder roll in on the wind. The seeds still lie in the darkness and safety of pouches as we bide the slow passage of time and for earth to drink the soil dry.
Under roof and sheets we ride on faith, dreaming prayers for time to plant and the harvest, of full bellies and sore muscles.
Farming is hope sown as seed, planted and tended till it rises as food, a gift from the earth to sustain us.