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

Summer

Spring goes out like a petulant teenager. It’s cold. I pull on a hoodie, long pants, and socks (socks!) to stay warm, and close the doors and windows. When I pass by the den on the way downstairs to the woman cave to write, I spy Maya curled up on a blanket on the sofa wearing

Scapes

It’s gray, damp, and cool this morning—a respite for those who don’t appreciate the heat. A gift of disappointment for me. I appreciate our desert-like summers, relishing time spent outdoors at this time of the year and mourning every day that isn’t hot. Summer is so fleeting. It’s not even summer yet and there are still

Important, Not Urgent

Gerry leaves early for a hike and I putter in the kitchen making pasta salad and a big batch of granola. It’s 9:00 when everything’s done, cleaned up, and put away: the time I head down to the woman cave to write. But the sun is shining and it is warm outside. The deck looks

Simple

I have a propensity to overcomplicate things. Spring reminds me of the wisdom of simplicity. Breathing morning air, spending an hour or so on the deck with a book, puttering in the garden (watering with a nozzle on the hose), these things fill me with gentle joy and gratitude. A simple salad of garden fresh