I’ve always been interested in gardening. Ever since our family Fridays entailed packing little pizzas and juice boxes and heading up to our garden-home in Al Haram, I’ve been mesmerized by the way plants and flowers bloom and decay. It’s almost like watching life under a microscope. I stand above the petri dish, peering through a glass at the cycle of life and death. I guess what fascinates me more than anything is the sense of awareness that gardening grants me. You cannot see the full effect of time on humans; people enter and exit your life, they die thereafter or you die before them. It’s a murky ordeal. With plants, however, you have the control of launching the life and growth of a mere seed, as do you have control over putting a sorrowful end to its life. Plants will die either way, but when you nurture and keep a watchful eye on them, it’s like time is giving you the chance to look into its workings. Time will not stop, but rather pause and say, “I am both fast and headed in one direction. Perhaps if you watch and cherish the moments that I grant you, my pace won’t sadden you so much”. How profound a dimension. I’d like to seize this opportunity, the decision to make time for pursuing this interest of mine, to celebrate time and the beauty of vegetation. Throughout this journey, I will be documenting the various plants, herbs and flowers I plant in my balcony and keeping track of their growth. Once a week, I will post a reflection on the conversation I’ve had with my plants. I feel like the connection one feels with their craft is tenfold. In the way artists stand back and hear their paintings speak to them, I wish to hear my plants and flowers speak to me. Simply speak. Or even whisper. I suppose I’m on the search for a new style of praying for everything I have ever loved. A spiritual awakening above all else. And I do believe that gardening has the power to grant me exactly that.