No two beginnings unfold alike.
Field Notes
A garden is never finished. It does not rush toward a final form but quietly unfolds through season after season. We often imagine growth as arriving somewhere new, yet nature suggests something gentler. Within a single fern, some fronds have only begun, others are slowly unfurling, and a few have already opened wide. None are ahead or behind. Each is simply following its own time. Perhaps we are changing far more often than we realize—one small unfolding at a time.