There’s a plant, in its pink plastic pot, sitting on the top of the stone planter, on my front porch. I put it there Sunday when I got home from the trip to the mountains. Tulips–only five-dollars from Walmart. It was raining–a soft spring shower fell all day.
“Good,” I thought. “It needs water and I went into the house to let the dog out and fixed us some dinner. ”
Today is Wednesday and I haven’t done a thing to or for the plant on my front porch.
I’m busy, doing paperwork. Tax day is approaching and my husband is waiting for me to do my part: tally up some things, document others.
I’m busy, planning next year’s calendar of events and programs.
I’m busy, fixing meals, walking the dog, washing clothes and somebody has got to vacuum these floors. We live in the city and the dirt seeps in through every minuscule crack and crevice in this old house.
Today, Wednesday, the tulip opened its bright red petals, holding the light . I smiled and I’m thankful. All by itself–without my tending it–it is.
(c) Glenda Kotchish
March 16, 2016