亂中有序

We left a bale of hay by one of the beds I had planted with chard and overnight the soil that Paul had so meticulously weeded into a rich black loam is flecked with emerald scratches. The chard has started to sprout so that it is only slightly larger than the new grass seedlings. The whole thing looks random and chaotic. I spend over an hour picking out the baby grass from the chard. At times it is difficult to discern what is a weed or grass from what is chard, but as I keep on picking, the chard emerges in neat, orderly rows. The seedlings look first like little splashes of red and green, then like asterisks or webdings, and then like words. And finally the words form into sentences, neat and sturdy.