Spring must be coming, even though it was thirty degrees this morning, because a porch has been lined with pots. They aren’t fancy or much too look at, a rangy bunch of mismatched colors, beigey green and grayed white, with a mix of shapes and sizes. I see them; dirt spilled here and there showing work in progress. I’m looking forward to seeing what grows in these pots. Seeds to be planted, growing where they are placed.
Sometimes I don’t come across too fancy. I can have some really interesting hair days or dry skin or just feel off. Truth be told, I would love to just stay in my sweatpants, throw on a t-shirt, and toss my hair up in pigtails or in a ball cap for my going out outfit for the day. Shoes should either be cute and comfy or strictly optional. As a child I would refuse jeans in favor of the comfort of sweats. Still love them! And these are just the surface things, just like that assortment of pots. It is in the dirt, loamy and nutrient filled that seeds are placed and then grow. Blooming up, bountiful in growth, the pots become just an afterthought in the green above them.