If children were seedlings I’d spend all day in the sun with them, humming some little songs, digging and using a watering can.
I’d study up on how to properly raise each type of them, do some sketches beforehand, take books out from the library, read up on how things are done.
I’d be tirelessly creative.
I’d grow way too many of them, all different varieties, and take a particular interest in the wild and unruly ones, how oddly they grow and shape themselves. I’d marvel at the strange places they’d come from. I’d dream about them.
I’d always wear a sunhat when I was around them, muddy boots, a t-shirt with a pocket in it, and canvas pants.
I’d spend way too much time coddling them until they began to wilt and grow brown under my care, and then I’d take particular joy in leaving them completely alone for a while and marvel at how well they would do without me.
I’d never worry too much if one ended up in an unexpected place, if some unusual flower burst forth, something completely mysterious and unidentifiable. The surprises are half the fun in the garden – the mistakes as delightful as anything.
If children were seedlings I’d never worry too much because there are always more springs and summers to try it again. I’d just hang up my sunhat, wipe the dirt from my forehead, scrub well under my fingernails and sink into a warm bath.
Take your boots off before you come in here!