Perhaps that’s how it starts

potatoesI stuck my hand in the loose soil beneath the surprisingly-pretty flowering plants and felt around for the first of the tender, thin-skinned “new” potatoes. Unearthing a handful of them, I then gathered kale and sorrel, lovage and lemongrass. Moments later, I stirred what would soon be a soul-warming soup on a cold day of rain and family illness. So humble, those potatoes. So simple. And yet, they transformed the day. Perhaps that’s what happens when we hold a door for someone, or smile, or share a piece of art out there in public. Perhaps that’s how it starts.

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