Brassica in Spring. 


I’ve been learning about my garden. 

I’ve been interested in gardening since I can remember, but can’t say I’ve been particularly good at it. I’d take an interest. Then loose an interest. Plants would thrive. Plants would die. 

I didn’t understand why the plants would die, or that it is common practice to have to plant more seeds during specific months. I didn’t understand much about fertiliser or my worm farm. 

Slowly but surely, I’m gaining the knowledge of how it all works. 

And here’s the thing. 

Every morning I wander around my tiny yard that still somehow spaciously houses my tiny, urban farm and it brings me joy. 

Joy to see my tiny seeds sprout. 

Joy to pick the fruits of my labour and understand how they will nourish me & my family. 

Joy to feel the warmth of the sun and the cool of the rain and take a deeper understanding of just exactly the purpose of it all is. 

Joy to feel the dirt beneath my feet. 

Joy to watch the wonder in my babies eyes as they see the plants emerge. 

Everyone should find their tiny garden. 

Brassica in Spring. 

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