Seven months is an ridiculously long time to grow one pepper.
On the other hand, I learned some things,
like how they change color from the top down.
Red slides over green like poured paint.
Wildlife won’t touch them.
On their nightly guerilla raids, Stealth and Capone, the raccoons,
leave half eaten tomatoes and uprooted tubers;
but sidestep sweet peppers altogether.
Most of all I’ve learned, of course and again, to wait.
Life happens in its own way and time.
Mine is to choose how I will live in the growing season.
Summer is winding down, the earth is preparing to sleep.
Autumn’s unspeakable beauty soothes the frustration that goes with,
“I should have gotten more done.”
But it only soothes if I’m willing;
if I notice and allow the earth its due rest.
The Lord willing, I’m going to eat the pepper for supper today.
I expect it to taste like sunshine and grace.
---Annette Hill Briggs
Thanks to Joyce Cookman for making this post into a poem!