A couple of months ago, Elliott and I made the decision to give our garden a break for a year and just build up the soil. Just about the time that everyone was talking about their newly planted gardens and every store from the local supermarket to the farm stand down the road had their seedlings out.

I hate the idea of not gardening, but it actually came as a little bit of a relief when the decision was made. I didn't have to do any back-breaking work to get ready and I didn't have the pressure to get my stuff in the ground as soon as possible. Really. Just a huge relief.

Then, the other night, my mother-in-law said that she bought way too many tomato plants and could I take some off her hands? Sure, I said. Knowing full well that we are taking this year off. They've been sitting in my window sill looking charming and full of possibilities.

Then, today, while out picking up a few things, I stopped by Reed's farm store. They have all their veggie plants and potted flowers out on tables in front of the store. I'll just look at what they have, I assured myself.

Now, here I am with 10 tomato plants, 2 basils and a thyme. I guess it's time I go outside and find a place where my garden will not be. Maybe pick up some pretty pots to plant this garden of mine that doesn't exist.

But remember, when everyone is talking about their beautiful, bountiful gardens this summer, don't ask me about mine because I don't have one.

Shell

This morning I've been seeing a lot of blog posts about Easter and new beginnings and all things eggs. It reminded me of something my husband wrote last year right about this time and I wanted to share it here. I think it might be perfect timing.

Shell

Written by Elliott Park on April 12, 2010

Just thinking the other day… if it seems like the walls are closing in on you – tighter each day. If you feel completely alone. If you’re tired of waking up from bright dreams only to find your nose against the same black, immovable wall. If you’re yearning to feel the Sun on your face, but every day is the same – just a black hard wall between you and happiness. Maybe you should just… peck.

I’ve spent a lot of restless nights wondering what this whole music thing will lead to. Whom should I network with? What kind of music should I write? Am I too old? Is it too late? Are the walls of my age closing in? Will the world ever hear the songs I once thought destined for the multitudes? I gotta say, I’ve gotten myself in a tizzy or two about the whole silly thing.

Back in January or so, God whispered something to me… just sing. So now I’m singing. Wherever I can and whenever I can: Munday Chamber of Commerce, Clyde Woman’s Club, Abilene Credit Union banquet… you want me to sing? I’m there. And two really cool things are happening: I’m enjoying it, AND I’m seeing a sincere reaction in people. Eureka! That’s what this is about – touching people.

So let me pull this all together. I’m a songwriter and that’s what I do. So I was out gathering eggs the other day and thought of the aforementioned picture of a hatchling chick. And it has dawned on me over these past few days – sometimes what seems like a cursed barrier to a destiny is really the protective shell of incubation. And if it feels like the walls are closing in on you, maybe it’s just you out-growing your walls. Thank you God for YOUR timing.

I’m no spring chicken. If I were, I guess I’d peck. But as it is… I’ll sing. Sing my way right out of this shell.