I forget why I was in the yard so early, barely awake, before the crows began their urgent gossip but there I was. Standing in a Sunday morning sanctuary of quiet. Afraid to move and break the window of stillness. I could feel the neighbors sleeping on every side. Smell the sun making its way over the hill. And I took note.
Those two minutes, before I had to go, were likely as close as I'll get to being a ring of fire pepper blossom myself, or the first sungold tomato not quiet ripe on the plant. But for a moment I was the hot blossom, the yellow fruit. For a moment I was potted and planted. I was rooted in the ground as surely as the garden and food growing around me.
When the food does find its way to my plate, I will remember it there, in that quiet morning and appreciate all the ways the garden feeds me, the actual food being one of them.
2 days ago
10 comments:
I can feel my roots in the ground, and the sun on my face. I loved starting my day with this--thank you!
Beautiful! I know what you mean. In my garden, with the kids inside or at school and the world still quiet, there is a magic that cannot be found anywhere else on earth.
You write so beautifully, thank you! What a picture!
I miss that feeling of being one with the garden, as now it's so far away (a couple miles). Though when I walk out my doorstep I now find I feel similarly about becoming one with this place. The people, the buses, the birds, the rain the trees... all are a part of me and my life, as I am a part of theirs.
Oh, I remember those early San Anselmo mornings in our garden. It was so peacefully and lovely. Mornings in Sonoma are grand too, but San Anselmo mornings have a special quality to them. Before I lived there, when I lived in Larkspur, when I felt troubled I would bike down Shady Lane to San Anselmo and would instantly feel like everything would be 'okay'. That town has a grounded feeling to it that reminds me of childhood and coziness. I love that town of yours.
tamara - My friend, why are you up so early?! The moon should be resting on your still sleeping self.
green bean - Magic - yes! You know it. I knew you would. Thank you.
donna - My cheeks are peach now too. Thank you.
melinda - Soon you'll have the bus drivers honking and waving at you and you'll be giving them zucchini's and tomatoes from the garden. You find magic everywhere.
kendra - I didn't see you there at the end. I think it's all the old oak trees in San Anselmo that grounds the area so much and of course, the north side of Mt. Tam and then the Seminary on the hill. It's a fairy tale. What a great story about pedaling down Shady Lane to okayness. And yes, I've spent some grand mornings in Sonoma too. There's a particular light I remember, as if the valley is tilted at a different angle that allows the sun to light everything gold from within. It's a place of legends.
That's some deep interconnection with nature going on there - thanks for sharing it with us too!
Lovely images. Wish I had that elusive green thumb.
theresa - Now I'm embarrassed but you're welcome.
tammy - What I lack in the green thumb I compensate for with enthusiasm. Oh, and worm tea.
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