I cannot believe it is already the end of the semester. As I sit in my
dorm, I hear the telltale screams, scuffles, and sounds of many things hitting
the ground that signify that it packing time. All of us buzz from one place to
another to find just one more container so we can finish packing. As exams end
for the day, many take congratulatory shots before getting ready to head home
in the morning, wherever that may be. As I pack up my things, which have seemed
to multiply since the start of the semester, I cannot help but wonder how our
garden shall fare until we are all back in Bethlehem. Also I cannot help but
feel envious of our plants’ residence. They never have the urgent need to pack
up and leave, only to return again after two months. They gather what they need
from the soil that beds them, and from the sunlight that filters down from far,
far above. They have no need for material objects, unlike us humans who
surround ourselves with giant piles of ‘stuff’. They are content in the
environment around them. Even though I worry about these tiny, ‘helpless’
babies, I know I am simply worrying too much. These seeds, and plants have
proved that they are survivors. On many occasions I have been awed by their
warrior-like strength and knightly courage against the trials of nature and
human stupidity. I cannot wait to see the drastic change once I return in July.
Our sunflowers shall stand sentinel over bed five, protecting our beets, string
beans, kale, chard, and carrots. All of who signal their presence with long
flags of green, as they stay burrowed in the dark rich soil. I shall be
perpetually shocked as our carrots grow and reveal their purple skin once
removed from the ground. As my gaze shall wander to bed seven, I shall be
greeted by several bunches of tomatoes, one of which the infamous Purple People
Eater (perhaps we shall have to cautious of that one after we start harvesting
our purple carrots). Marigolds shall brighten up the plot with their fiery
visage, as our slender basil finds cover in that radiant wave of molten gold. Too
say the least, this garden has me ready to start the next chapter of my life as
it shall constantly grow and always provide.
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