The Kitchen Garden Novice Goes to Seed

Don't judge each day by the harvest you reap but by the seeds that you plant.

Robert Louis Stevenson

I awoke at 4:45 am this morning with my brain firing like a pyrotechnic star burst. Maybe that's the wrong analogy. That makes it sound awe-inspiring. Not so much. The Universe had reprogrammed my brain during the night to "random shuffle." I hate it when that happens. I have so many ideas streaming through my consciousness; I don't know where to focus my attention.

Sleep? Forget it. I finally gave up at 6:00 and resigned myself to a scattered, albeit tired day ahead. Two cups of coffee later, my mind was still flitting from one project or intent to another. Should I start that new card for Operation Write Home? Or maybe begin a page in my heritage scrapbook?  I haven't touched it in months.  And I've been meaning to experiment with nutritional yeast to see if I can concoct a passable (and palatable) vegan cheese substitute.  So many ideas...such a short day. Maybe a walk with the dog would help to clear my mind.

Puppy and I set out on a marathon stroll. I began to softly sing as I wandered; Karen Drucker's soulful mantra became mine. "I am so blessed... I am so blessed... I am so grateful for all that I have..."

One hour later, as I unlocked the front door and dropped the keys on the kitchen table, my eye caught sight of the basil plant I have been tending and harvesting for the past year. All that remains of 2010's new years kitchen garden is one lonely stalk of basil. I reaped the rest for pesto and pasta dishes. Yet,  that one brave little stem stood tall with what appeared to be new growth. I looked closer. To my delight I realized the fragrant jewel was starting to flower. A year had passed, and this living creation had grown to maturity. She was ready to bear seed.

At that moment, a peculiar comfort struck me. It occurred to me I am a bit like that basil plant--gone to seed. I am blessed...to bear lots of seed, as evidenced by the stream of ideas and projects that called to me this morning. Yet unlike my brave little herb, I worry and stress over what to do with that seed. For the basil it is enough to create the seeds. She leaves their destiny to Mother Nature. It seems I could learn a few things from my sweet basil.

It matters not what seeds of creativity I choose to cultivate today; indeed, it matters not if I choose to cultivate any seeds at all. Should I die tomorrow, all of "my" creative energy would return to the Source, the Creator from which it was born. Nothing is lost. And that, my friends, is a life lesson from one living creature to another.

Anyone can cut an apple open and count the number of seeds.

But, who can look at a single seed and count the trees and apples?

Dottie Walters