The plant that seems the least impressive, the afterthought, the slow and steady tortoise - it’s also the giver of the rare treasure.

My kids, especially my eldest, hate it. It’s a hate borne of fear, which she will freely admit.

I looked over and the beautiful green pods were brown and dried out. I didn’t even have time to regret it. Just another thing I don’t have time for in September.

I struggle sometimes with not being fully knowledgeable about all things at all times. I don’t know why, perhaps it’s my little perfectionism in a life that is stubbornly imperfect in every other way.

Sometimes I want my kids to have no idea at all what their joy cost. I want it to feel free, abundant, a small miracle there for the taking.

I’d given up on my dream of grapes, allowing those plants the barest of care and space, and in the end, they surprised me.

Something about how they grow makes them more refreshing than they have any right to be.

All of my kids have carefully avoided the early spring planting, since it’s full of mud and rain and damp, cold hours.

It is the plant that will not die.