We Have Seeds To Plant

Paisley watching outside.

There are times throughout the year when my family and I are called to the woods. The towering, opulent evergreens surround us in the city, but the forests north of us produce denser trees of greater variety: spruce, fir, aspen, and birch. The compact timbers call us to wander the overgrown trails, releasing our worldly worries into the humid air, a reprieve from uncertainty.

            As we meander between ferns, rocks, leaves, and pine needles, we smell the dirt beneath our feet and breathe the moisture from the air, a mixture of all our habitat offers. It is soothing to our tired minds until we gather our things and begin the trek home; with each mile, we close in on our Seattle apartment, and our concerns return to us, as if dismissed by the natural environment, saying to us, “There are yours. They don’t belong here. We cannot keep them. So we release them to you.”

            We spent a short weekend up north, relaxing in a tiny home. Between the rain and hail, we napped, read, ate, walked, and sat outside by the fire until the moon rose. The world feels especially hard. As spring brings the bloom of new life, the fires in the minds of those with unnatural interests burn thickets of hope. There is a steely cold in the words of those with the power to grow optimism. Instead of seeds to plant and restore, fuel and flame are wielded with reckless abandon. So, we escaped and took ourselves to what felt right instead of drowning in the barrage of what felt wrong. We ran to the scents and colors of life.

            In whatever way serves you, I hope you find peace where you can wander in your mind, on your feet, and in your soul.