The morning air is crisp as I step into the garden, the ground still damp from the night’s quiet rain. Rows of tall, green stalks stand before me, their long, elegant leaves swaying gently in the breeze. Leeks have been waiting patiently, growing slowly, steadily, deepening their roots with each passing season. I kneel, fingers…
The air is still crisp, winter holding on with its last quiet breath: mindful gardening. The ground, though thawing, still carries the weight of the season, damp and cool beneath my fingertips. And yet, there it is—a single snowdrop, pushing its way through the frost-bitten earth, a delicate bell of white against the cold. There…
The earth still carries the weight of winter, the air crisp with the last breath of cold. The trees stand bare, the sky pale, and yet, something stirs beneath the soil. A quiet shift, a hidden movement, and then—a crocus emerges. Delicate, yet determined, it does not wait for warmth to arrive. It pushes through…