I dream in flowers. Secret gardens of my mind. Tiptoeing through visions long embedded from stories, and whisps of memories become my nightly foray during this time of year.
I can smell the fresh earth, feel the moisture under my feet, name each plant as I go. And, I gather. I gather the ingredients for our salsa, I choose blossoms for the vases, and I hold moments in my heart that I will return to when next I dream. There is a sound of contented buzzing in the garden of my dreams. There are moss encrusted walls of rocks and the sun is always warm on my back as I wander.
But as I said, here & now, they are only longings - - only sketches.
And while I sketch, Minda knits.
Soon the seed catalogues will begin arriving. I'll pack them by my side instead of in a box. They'll while away the miles between destinations. Oh, I do hope we are settled in time to plant!
For now I'll just dream of playing in the dirt.