SOIL

for the full moon on April 1, 2026

The seedlings residing in my warm kitchen have broken themselves out of their tight-fitting seed coats. They’ve pushed their tender-strong heads through the soil, their hungry leaves extending towards the light above. Even when the snow returned and fluttered outside the window, they continued their determined growth and unfurled a silent web of roots below. The seedlings hold the inner sun of spring within themselves and will not be deterred in their unfolding.

After tending to them, I’m pulled outside — where bright birdsong encircles the trees — and peel back the cover of mulch in the garden beds. The force of green — the viriditas — is strong and rising, and the first plants are emerging: tiny leaves of strawberry and lemon balm, the tops of garlic and daffodil, the swelling buds of rose and elder. Places that were frozen not too long ago now yield to the strengthening sun, mellowing into soil that will hold water and air and warmth. It can now quench thirsty roots and birth new plants from seeds hidden and held all winter.