A little bit of sun can go a long way...

A friend gave me a handful of sunflower seeds to plant here in New York City-- a little experiment actually-- and as it turns out, I planted them too early. Yesterday I was complaining about my small pot void of any signs of life and my sister said, "Of course sunflower seeds cannot be planted in March!" I must have looked sour because she quickly said, "There is always hope. You have planted to early, but there is always hope."

Why do I write this? Because there must be a lesson in this somewhere.

I'm not much interested in dwelling upon heedless or reckless behavior. That is too easy. I am quite hopeless in this area anyway. I fall in love easily. I throw myself into adventures and friendships and new ideas without much restraint. But how about this one instead:

Winter is long. Brown earth and sky and the skeletons of leafless trees linger in NYC this time of year and spring comes late. Warm days tease weary, wool-clad city folk and every Sunday a fine old gentleman leaves the 9 o'clock service with a glint in his eye and tells me, "Don't worry dear. Spring is coming." I pause for a moment and think, "Do I wear a tee-shirt that reads 'Seasonal Affective Disorder' or something?" More likely this man is simply a wise read of people.

Life churns and rolls ahead rather obstinately, like the line across my forehead that seems to be deepening on a daily basis. That will be a new one to deal with: smile lines that become permanent creases. But these are the least of my worries and I won't wax poetic here about aging. I think me and this pot of seeds are about looking for a miracle. We could all use a miracle or two. And we all need hope to shout a little louder some days.

And maybe life will spring up where we least expect it.