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Showing posts from March, 2005

How does your garden grow

Kids are fascinated by seeds. I don't completely understand it, but I think it has something to do with the miracle that happens when a seed becomes a plant. You push the tiny dot into soft, black soil, and sit around waiting, hoping, wondering what's going to happen. Planting and growing seeds reminds me a little of a great poem that has really affected me in the past few weeks. Mary Ann Evans (under the pseudonym of George Eliot) wrote a poem called Count That Day Lost : If you sit down at set of sun And count the acts that you have done, And, counting, find One self-denying deed, one word That eased the heart of him who heard, One glance most kind That fell like sunshine where it went -- Then you may count that day well spent. But if, through all the livelong day, You've cheered no heart, by yea or nay -- If, through it all You've nothing done that you can trace That brought the sunshine to one face-- No act most small That helped some soul and nothi