Monday in Not-Quite Fall

Monday, you are fresh and full of promise. Even now when, save for Sunday, the days look much the same, there is something about you that says anticipation. In my first thoughts of the day I survey the busy week ahead and find, not the routine I hunger for, but a smattering of good things I

Green Beans

A mountain of green beans in the kitchen sink invite me to a time of rumination as I fall into a pattern of washing and snapping them into bite-sized pieces. Swish, see, snap, snap, set aside, next. It’s a good time to pray. Tending to vegetables grown from tiny seeds, in awe of the master gardener who

Morning

It’s just after dawn. The first magical rays of sun have just kissed my little part of the world. I’m back from being out in the yard, barefoot on the cool dewy grass, taking photos. I’d like to show you the magic but I’m not of the mind to open my laptop, download, and process

Lookin’ Out My Back Door

It’s blustery, and not quite what I like the end of June to look like but we need the rain. It’ll be a good day to spend with words: nothing wrong with that. Perception is reality. It’s a good day to have a good day. And all that jazz.

In the Moment of Now

Overnight, the growth seems exponential. I stand with the the long-handled nozzle on my hose putting water near the base of turnips and beans and kohlrabi and other plants that are, today, more than they were yesterday. Sometimes, change happens when we don’t expect it. We’re surprised when we find ourselves somewhere we haven’t been

Seasons

I wish it was hot, but it’s not. It will be before long, so I do my best to be patient. We go to an appointment, then to the garden and harvest handfuls of fragrant basil for pesto. At home, I work in the kitchen making dog food and that pesto. After many trips up

Abundance

It’s fruit season. I’m tucking raspberries and strawberries away in the freezer, making jam, and enjoying handfuls of the sweet berries throughout the day. Also on ice cream. Of course. I’ve been on a canning hiatus, and the familiar sound of pinging lids and the sight of jars liked up like red-jewelled soldiers on a towel