Anticipation.

Our tomatoes, seen here, are awake and eager, reaching upwards from their tiny peat pots by the window. Basil isn’t far behind, but lavender’s going to make us wait.

I don’t know much about the garden except that I like puttering around in it. This is true especially in early spring, when tiny signs of life start emerging from earth that seemed as though it had been dark and dead for ages.

For the past couple of years, the kids have helped start a few seeds indoors. We have a small plastic planting tray with those peat pellets that swell when they’re watered. The kids use a toothpick to place the seeds, and label the rows so we know what we’re looking at (and which kid planted it) once they sprout.

I’d hoped that if the children would be involved in cultivating a few backyard vegetables, they’d actually eat some. (Nope. Not a chance.)

Whether they end up consuming our harvest or not, I’m glad to see the kids experiencing the wonder of a seed starting to realize its potential – a seed they held in their hand, a seed they personally placed in the right conditions for new life.

The kids check on the seeds’ progress daily. Her tomato plants are winning, and his basil’s in second place, but I’m pretty sure we’re all rooting for the underdog.

Come on out, lavender. No need to be afraid. I’m almost certain the kids won’t eat you.