Inch by Inch, Row by Row

The 20-fourth annual celebration of the day someone, an awesome someone, happened to give birth to me--April nineteenth--was this past Saturday. I was fortunate enough to spend the morning with my father, cultivating our newly born vegetable garden. Two clumps of Chives were transplanted in from a worn, wooden barrel. Miniature matchstick seeds of Marigold were sewn along the outskirts for protection from the high possibility, or perhaps inevitability, of insects. Planted in days prior, the once pebble-sized seeds of bean and cucumber were already beginning to sprout into little creatures of a green only earth could give. From moist-soil starter pods, to proud little men stretching for the sun, in less than a few days--it never ceases to amaze me, the ability of "things" to grow. First we take hold with our roots, and then watch out, because there is no stopping the determination of a new life, nor that of one growing older.