Some of the most important things in life begin as something small and uncertain. A packet of seeds. A first chapter. A conversation. Standing in the garden this spring, watching green shoots push through the soil, reminded me that growth is often invisible until suddenly it isn’t—and that the things we plant today may become far more than we ever imagined.
Sunday mornings used to be about sleeping late, catching up, or feeling guilty about everything still left undone. These days, they’re quieter. Coffee in the kitchen. Music playing softly. Conversations that drift between the new, the familiar, and the things you somehow keep revisiting after decades together. Outside, twenty raised garden beds wait for spring planting, which may be ambition or madness. Possibly both.
