fertilizer.

My life is rich in people resources.

It's lacking in direction.

It's full of spring, and things that are green. My yard is blooming the weeds of spring that are aching to be cut with the mower that I do not have. And my flower garden has begun to sprout buds that were not present when I planted them. Today, a yellow flower made it's way past the green casing that had been hiding it's beauty.

In my near future, choices have to be made that will affect my future days, choices that I don't feel I have to resources for. These things, the reality of choices and the inadequacy I feel following through with them, basically make me feel like a twenty-five year old child; someone with necessary and inevitable responsibility that still needs afternoon naps, and a pacifier to put them to sleep.

To bring me back, and replace some of the insanity with that which is sane, I will go outside onto the front porch with a bowl of water, and drip it along the budding flowers that I planted in the ground, when the sun was shining. My hands were covered in dirt, with remnants of the ground scattered over my exposed pieces of skin. I was at peace, unearthing the roots that would hinder the growth of the kimono flowers about the go in the spot I had selected for them. I am not a lover of worms. Some would say, I would say, I dislike them very much. I react to slimey squirmy worms akin to the way a toddler would react to their mother yanking their pacifier from them. But I was being told, by my roommate Tonia, that I must leave them there, as they are good for the soil that my flowers so desperately need to thrive. With that, I put my hands back in the dirt, digging, arranging, making peace with the reality that worms must stay, and eventually, I must leave, and it's all necessary and a little disgusting and all together good.