Cuppa Coffee and a Date Square...
Stuck here in town waiting for the slow machine of bureaucracy to say that I'm acceptable fodder for export. Passports...
I'm not even close to being organized - my house is a disaster zone - my garden is falling to the ever enveloping scourge of Morning-Glory and Blackberry. I don't much mind the Blackberries as they're fine compostables! The mat of fleshy white roots that the morning glory forms about a foot under my heavily, compost-fortified, soil however, is thick and all-encompassing.
I've spent the majority of the last year pushing myself towards my newly chosen life and the land unfortunately has suffered through my inattention. At this point in my life I'm making a decision to give up the dream of land 'ownership' and choose the much more obtainable option of land 'stewardship'. Walking away from a garden that has been the source of my inspiration, food, and peace will be the hardest thing I've ever done. This land has many happy memories. May it continue to reward others with the same gentle peace that it gave Elizabeth and myself. I realize I talk about my land as an old friend, a living thing, a sanctuary, a place of nature - it is all this and much more.
Early this morning I lie in bed, as the sun comes up, and listen to the birds awakening. Making myself a quick breakfast of a grapefruit, and unleavened bread with almond butter, I find a spot in the wild edges of the veggie patch, surrounded by dozens of species of grass, in full flower, and quietly eat.
I feel the warmth of the sun as it moves across the land - sitting motionless for hours, I watch the insects wake and start feeding. Bumble-bees working their way around the brilliant purple flowers of the flax, Yellow-jackets busily harvesting bits of wet wood to chew up and use for making their nests under the eaves of my little house, little black ants scurrying around underneath my feet in erratic patterns in search of dropped morsels.
Sparrows chirp and tussle in the pines, a Red-winged black-bird lands in my willows. I wonder if the Swallow-tail caterpillars are munching their way through the willow and fennel yet. Something to check before I leave.
It's quiet this Sunday morning, the world is either asleep or away, I close my eyes and hear only natural sounds, no traffic noise, lawnmowers, no voices murmering through the still air. I think this is what I love about my kayak - the moments when it's so quiet that I dare not splash a paddle for fear of creating a 'butterfly effect'. A slight ripple here becoming a tidal wave there. Quiet so thick it comforts like an eider-down quilt.
~Salt and Earth~
~Peace and Quiet~
...the cool fresh air of an old growth forest.
...the sweet taste of fresh Dungeness crab.
...raspberries and rich cream.
...sea-spray.
...friends.
~d
Stuck here in town waiting for the slow machine of bureaucracy to say that I'm acceptable fodder for export. Passports...
I'm not even close to being organized - my house is a disaster zone - my garden is falling to the ever enveloping scourge of Morning-Glory and Blackberry. I don't much mind the Blackberries as they're fine compostables! The mat of fleshy white roots that the morning glory forms about a foot under my heavily, compost-fortified, soil however, is thick and all-encompassing.
I've spent the majority of the last year pushing myself towards my newly chosen life and the land unfortunately has suffered through my inattention. At this point in my life I'm making a decision to give up the dream of land 'ownership' and choose the much more obtainable option of land 'stewardship'. Walking away from a garden that has been the source of my inspiration, food, and peace will be the hardest thing I've ever done. This land has many happy memories. May it continue to reward others with the same gentle peace that it gave Elizabeth and myself. I realize I talk about my land as an old friend, a living thing, a sanctuary, a place of nature - it is all this and much more.
Early this morning I lie in bed, as the sun comes up, and listen to the birds awakening. Making myself a quick breakfast of a grapefruit, and unleavened bread with almond butter, I find a spot in the wild edges of the veggie patch, surrounded by dozens of species of grass, in full flower, and quietly eat.
I feel the warmth of the sun as it moves across the land - sitting motionless for hours, I watch the insects wake and start feeding. Bumble-bees working their way around the brilliant purple flowers of the flax, Yellow-jackets busily harvesting bits of wet wood to chew up and use for making their nests under the eaves of my little house, little black ants scurrying around underneath my feet in erratic patterns in search of dropped morsels.
Sparrows chirp and tussle in the pines, a Red-winged black-bird lands in my willows. I wonder if the Swallow-tail caterpillars are munching their way through the willow and fennel yet. Something to check before I leave.
It's quiet this Sunday morning, the world is either asleep or away, I close my eyes and hear only natural sounds, no traffic noise, lawnmowers, no voices murmering through the still air. I think this is what I love about my kayak - the moments when it's so quiet that I dare not splash a paddle for fear of creating a 'butterfly effect'. A slight ripple here becoming a tidal wave there. Quiet so thick it comforts like an eider-down quilt.
~Salt and Earth~
~Peace and Quiet~
...the cool fresh air of an old growth forest.
...the sweet taste of fresh Dungeness crab.
...raspberries and rich cream.
...sea-spray.
...friends.
~d
Food For Thought
No comments:
Post a Comment