Light to partial shade, does well under the shade of tall trees, gentle courtesies.

Application has to be unrude, soothing. Patient. You can’t just expect something to grow by going through the motions like it’s paint by numbers. You can’t just seed & till & make declarations like you’re a god.

And perhaps this is not the season where it is meant to grow & that’s fine. You can call it failure or a year wasted & who am I to tell you how to feel?

But there is a simple personal majesty, to try. I put my hand into the earth & I feel like I am holding in solidarity, yours.

So? We sow.Without sentimentality, ready to burn a stalled harvest, we plant again until this all, flowers.  

But my touch is too brute. I require your gentle. & until nature reasserts itself, I would call it, something. 

There’s no revolution without empathy at the core/centre of it, but you still must take time, to plant your garden. 

And here in Roncesvalles, a flowering insurrection, nade timid, to yield, beauty, in your rage.