After three more days of drenching rain, I stepped out into the mud-soaked garden this morning, and looky looky what I found: cantaloupes!
Evidently, the birds that had feasted on my large and healthy cantaloupe seeds had missed a few. And here they were, sprouting up, all healthy and vivacious and dark glossy green, right on the hills where I'd planted them. The way they stand up so straight, with those proud little leaves and short chubby stems, reminds me of my little boys. They seem to be saying, in the same manner as when my boys actually eat their vegetables, hey, look at our muscles! I like the way the cantaloupe seedlings look - healthy. Sturdy. Corn-fed. Survivors. I can't help it, I'm Midwestern, and I am so proud of them.
My two-year-old and I performed a victory dance right there in the mud, this kind of jumpy, kicky dance, with him punching his arms in the air, kung fu-style, and I was jumping straighat up and down with my knees nearly locked, like I used to do, many years ago, every single time I heard the Violent Femmes (I love dancing. It's a sickness. I don't understand why there aren't more opportunities for adults to freestyle dance in the world.). It was, in every sense of the word, a miracle, and if all goes well I will eat cantaloupe this summer from my own backyard. With salt.
Funny, I was about to tear down the hills where I had assumed all the cantaloupe seeds had been robbed from me - I was going to use the soil and compost for another planting project. But, I didn't. I decided - for once - to wait a few days to try to decide what my next move would be, and that's when the sturdy little seedlings popped up with their muscle shirts on.
This makes me wonder about miracles. Because I didn't do anything. I mean, I did do everything - I used the right soil, the premium compost, the right spot, the right water, everything. But I didn't do too much. When I realized the birds had come and had lunch on my seeds, I did not rush out and tear down the hills. I let them sit for a while. I thought about what to do next. And mostly, I didn't think. I just let them sit, and I looked at them, and pictured all the possibilities.
The miracles: they show up in the unlikeliest of places.