As I sit here alone, eating the eggs I received from my
backyard chickens yesterday, I am tempted to deluge you with words like the downpour
of rain that hit hard this early morning. I am tempted to tell you all the turbulence
of my life these past six months. I wish I could update you on my many adventures,
losses, stresses and day-to-day pleasures, but I realize that these past events
are too much to tackle for one single read and that they are what they are and
they are, quite simply, in the past. Because, for better or for worse, I tend
to not dwell on the past, I will be true to myself and withhold this
information from you. I will, however, let you know that in the past six months
I have grown as a mother, a daughter, a sister, a wife, and, of course, as a
gardeness. I have experienced stress, loss, loneliness, laughter, absolute pure
love, and the success of some tasty tomatoes.
Like my life, my
garden has had its ups and downs as well. The podded peas from I picked from
the vine in the early summer reminded me that there is still the simple
pleasure of sweetness when your world is filled with worry. As the summer progressed and my heart was
tormented by grief, my garden buzzed with life and the promise of sustenance
for my starved and empty soul. As my
lovely layer chickens started producing eggs, I was witness to a new love’s beginning.
By late summer, I was celebrating a successful
harvest the same time my family, friends and I celebrated my daughters two year
old birthday. Lastly, this fall, I shared my first rhubarb crisp from my
prolific perennial plant as my community of new friends grew around me.
Today, I look at my rain drenched yard and know that like the
seedlings now swimming in puddles of promise, I should be thankful for the
shower of love and support I have had these past six months and I will hopefully
continue to sprinkle you with my words and thoughts of land, love and learning.
With this cleansing winter rain, I feel that a new beginning is here.
Now, what should I write about?
