This time of year I start my seeds for the garden. I have done some version of this almost every year of my adult life. When I was first in my own apartment, I tried versions of container gardens, and then when I was in my first home I planned elaborate floral displays and vegetable harvests that delighted as much as they disappointed. Some of the years back then I completely abandoned the idea and others went all in. I had very different reasons for gardening (or not) then, although to those versions of me, they were each very compelling. Then, moving to my beautiful mountain homestead, the gardens have been a wise and ruthless teacher. You cannot get behind on managing those weeds and bramble for even a moment, lest you find yourself completely overrun… completely lost. Or so it seems. Today, I am noticing the miracle that is this life. How, from a place of thorny, poisonous ruin, you can decide to clear away the mess and begin again. From the smallest of beginnings, something new can grow. New things sprout from the unlikeliest of places. Last fall, I collected many, many hosta seed pods, and emptied them when dry in preparation for a project I cooked up in the brainpan last [...]