Read by Amanda MacArthur

“You don’t have to do so much.”

Ah, the sage advice of Sweet Lori, the ever-opinionated mother. The seeds, the fuss, the digging—apparently, I was doing it all wrong.

“Mom, it’s about the joy later, the fruits of my labor!”

“Wait for the nursery, darling. They have everything.”

“But what if they don’t have the early girls, Mom?”

Ah, the early girls, Uncle Bill’s legendary tomatoes. A dwindling dynasty that needed a successor, and clearly, I was the chosen one.

“Love you, Mom. Talk soon.”

So here I was, surrounded by mislabeled sprouts in a laundry room turned seed-starting sanctuary. The leggy little starts stared back, misunderstood and mislabeled, much like my attempts at making toast. This was round two, and the struggle was real.

“They are growing,” my partner chimed in.

“Not really. Come look.”

“Bean, they’re fine. Leave them alone. Patience.”

Bean—a sprout in a big world, facing existential crises over tomato starts.

“Did you know you can’t start beans inside?”

A chuckle. A smile. “You’re ridiculous. We can buy them.”

“But what if they don’t have early girls?”

“They always do. And if not, we’ll find some. It’ll be okay.”

“What if the starts don’t grow?”

“What doesn’t grow in this house? You? Me? The cats? The houseplants in every corner?”

“Nothing’s growing outside.” I pouted.

“Mm, it’s February. Plants are still sleeping. Go get coffee. Chill out. Give it time.”

Chill out. Give it time.

As I stared out the kitchen window, contemplating my toast-making skills, the garden lay silent in February slumber. Impatience lingered. The dreamy yard I envisioned was now a frozen, muddy reality. Until, by the fence, a tall figure caught my eye—two leaves and a barely distinguishable bud. The forgotten bare-root beauty had emerged, the hellebore, the early girl of the season.

In my rush to fill the yard, I almost missed her.

So, with a cup of coffee in hand and a chuckle at my own impatience, I embraced the comedy of waiting for Spring’s grand entrance, one mislabeled sprout at a time. ❖

About the Author: Andi Yates is a passionate gardener, houseplant enthusiast, and licensed marriage and family therapist based in Columbus, Ohio. Alongside providing local “plant therapy” classes, Andi tends to a diverse array of plants in their narrow yard, including a bog, a cactus garden, and spaces for pollinators. With a continuous exploration of new plants, Andi embraces the eternal challenge of finding space for each addition.