Abby and I found a soccerball on our little evening walk today. It was beside a tree and perhaps a hundred feet from our house, maybe fifteen feet from the path we walked almost every day this past summer. We call that little path the meditation loop.

Finding that rotten old ball was a pretty beautiful reminder that we haven’t seen a full year under here, in the blue halls of indigo house. We moved in July, so we’ve seen mostly high summer, and a winter now, too. But not spring, this is the first spring. 

A few times across winter we speculated after where we oughta put the garden we plan to grow this summer. 

Maybe on the south side, where it’s open? Too wet. 

Towards the road? too much dust.

By the fire pit, right in the middle? Yeah.

Lo and behold as the snow melted these past few days we could make out the rows of some elder garden, years or maybe even decades out of use and covered in last years hay.
 
Another feature to this place we were ignorant of for the sake of firsts.