imperfection

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The morning sun cuts right through sun shade, catching every little imperfection out here—a smudge of potting soil on the old black table, a stray coil of jute twine hanging from the rafters, and the coffee ring sitting right next to my propagation snips.

​The three German Shepherds are already camped out keeping watch over the property while the dew still sits thick on the lemongrass and the morning air holds that cool, quiet stillness before the Florida heat sets in. Every leaf isn't polished, and not every pot sits dead-center on the shelf, but watching that golden light spill across the ferns and aroids makes all the dirt under the fingernails worth it.