It's hard to have a bad day when everywhere I look tiny beautiful things are sprouting out of the ground. And I didn't plant any of them. They all did their own work, all winter long, while I was moaning and complaining about their hiddenness.
I'm so glad good things happen without my involvement. Those tiny little bursts pop out, imperfect yet so pretty in their intricate delicacy. They remind me again that I don't have to be enough. I just have to do my work, small and slow, and trust that the work itself is good and will be good, even if I can't see the fruition yet.