My little garden is finally in. Mostly flowers and enough food to remind me that food doesn’t come from stores. Farmers near and far are working now to insure I eat next winter. I put in nine tomato plants, three cucumber vines, zucchini, summer and spaghetti squash, herbs, cosmos, zinnias, geraniums, petunias and more lavender. Someday I hope mine will be the house with the chickens and all that lavender.
“Breezy, sunny and seventy-six degrees” may be true but is hardly perfect. This weather begs a poet, not a meteorologist. I want nothing but to sit and breathe the air of this particular morning. And to wish such a gentle moment for everyone who is sad, exhausted or afraid. Of course, I can also hear the bulldozers, pile drivers and dump trucks working on the highway not a mile beyond the trees as the crow flies. My windows will rattle good, when the rock blasting resumes this afternoon.
Any given moment contains a collection of beauty and commotion. Joy lies in learning where to listen when. I found a Mary Oliver poem to share with you. May the day be kind in every way.
I write a Tuesday morning devotional to members and friends of UBC. It is also posted here.
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