I apologize to the cauliflower plants that I've ignored them all summer. They kept growing and growing, but I grew impatient. I'd never once seen anything representing a cauliflower, and I gingerly pulled back the leaves all season. Now, it just seems silly to check, especially since the whole garden is dried up and overgrown.
My husband reminds me that the peppers are
just now turning red.
I obviously have timing issues.
I decide to give the cauliflower another chance. Deep within the shaded leaves of the plant, a haven of cool, moist air surrounds something I've never seen growing before: a real cauliflower in a garden and not a grocery aisle. I show my daughter, and we wonder when (and how) in the world you pick a cauliflower.
I realize this: sometimes when you leave something alone, it flourishes. When you least expect it, and when you're just about to give up, you'll pull back those leaves and find your dream needed that quiet, uninterrupted place to germinate.
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Journal: Do you have a dream you need to leave alone for awhile?
