61 lines
1.5 KiB
TeX
61 lines
1.5 KiB
TeX
\herosection{The Garden that Would Not Hurry}{chapters/2025.09.28-TheGardenThatWouldNotHurry/image/the-garden-that-would-not-hurry.jpg}
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\DROPCAP{../../dropcap_c/dropT.png}here was once a woman \\
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who wished to make beauty bloom.\\
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She cleared a plot of rocky soil behind her cottage,\\
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dug furrows, \\
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sowed seeds, \\
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and waited.
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But each morning she came out,\\
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and each morning the earth looked the same —\\
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bare, brown, silent.
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She watered twice, \\
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then thrice.\\
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She sang to the ground,\\
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scolded it, \\
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pleaded with it,\\
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even pressed her palms into the soil\\
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as if warmth alone \\
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could coax the green awake.
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Still nothing.
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She envied the neighbor's garden,\\
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where shoots already stood in rows.
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Perhaps my seeds are lazy, she thought,\\
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and bought new ones — `faster' ones,\\
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or so the storekeeper said.
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But when she scattered them,\\
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the wind carried half away,\\
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and the rest drowned \\
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in her over-zealous watering.
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One night, \\
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she dreamed of an old gardener\\
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tending a vast orchard under moonlight.\\
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He said nothing — \\
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only knelt,\\
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and waited beside each tree\\
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until a single petal fell into his hand.
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When she woke, she went outside.\\
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The ground was still bare,\\
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but something in her had softened.\\
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She touched the soil once, \\
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gently,\\
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and went back inside.
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Days passed.\\
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Then weeks.
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And one morning,\\
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tiny green blades broke the surface — \\
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so small she missed them at first.
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She laughed, not at the delay,\\
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but at her own impatience.
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