Sunday, July 28, 2013

Sunday Stroll - Bramble Walk

Today, when I take a walk, I will head out through the deep woods to the clearing where the wild blackberries grow.  Yesterday, I spent a couple of hours picking, got wet from toe to hip because of heavy rain recently, and only got two cups of deep crimson blackberries.  They taste like a hint of heaven and their harvest is just beginning.  We will have to pick berries daily for the next week or two in order to keep ahead of the birds.  Having said that, there are plenty to go around.  The berry bramble flourishes here, with little interference on our part.

We will be planting a few blueberry bushes on the farm today.  We bought five plants from a roadside stand the other day.  The "blueberry guy" who sold them to us was country folk, pure and simple, and for over an hour regaled us with stories of growing organic produce and roses.  His description of how to plant the blueberry bushes was detailed and exacting.  I am going to attempt to follow his instructions to the letter.  He sounded as if he knew what he was talking about.  There is a special wisdom in people who work with the earth and growing things that I can't ignore.

Wherever you are, whatever the weather, I wish you contentment and joy.

Monday, July 22, 2013

The Slow Down

Summer is flying.  I want it to slow down.  I begin teaching summer school next Monday, and suddenly I am realizing that this beautiful season will soon be gone.  I will love and embrace autumn when it arrives, but until then, I want to be gloriously and completely saturated by summer.

Let the deep rich joy of being in the garden permeate my soul.  Let the fresh air move through my spirit and brush away the cobwebs.  Let the colors and light lift me out of dull routines and sloppy habits.

Let me bloom and grow...
            hair down,
                 feet bare,
                       heart wide open.

Wherever you are, whatever the weather, I wish you fresh air and an open heart.

Saturday, July 06, 2013

My Sanctuary

My sanctuary has thousands of birch leaves rustling softly,
Bird chatter,
And wind song.
My sanctuary has ancient apple trees,
Extending arms full of tiny green apples.
There are dappled pools of sunlight,
Flecked with black-eyed Susan, field daisies,
And tall grasses whose seed heads dance.

I do not need to pray in my sanctuary;
My sanctuary is a prayer,
of gratitude,
and wholeness,
and belonging.

Where ever you are, whatever the weather, I wish you sanctuary and belonging.