roots of devotion ♡

today, my boyfriend tilled my garden so i could press pumpkin, onions, and squash seeds into the soil before frost finds its way across the rock garden. the rhythm of the tiller against the earth was steady, almost like a heartbeat, reminding me that love is not always thunderous or loud—it is often quiet, hidden in the simplest of gestures. it is in the way someone gives their time without asking, in the way they turn the soil so you can dream of blooms, even when the season is drawing to a close. love does not always arrive wrapped in flowers or poetry—it arrives in the dirt beneath fingernails, in the hum of machinery against ground that has seen both drought and rain, in the patience it takes to believe that life can still rise before the cold comes.

i stood watching the rows take shape, feeling gratitude curl through me like roots reaching deeper. there is something eternal in this act, a reminder that beginnings are possible at any point, even when endings press close. to till the soil is to say, there is still time. to plant is to whisper, i believe in what has yet to come.

with ink + bloom, 🌻