Destruction, Creation

That pretty much sums it up. Well, that and ... life is sweet.

Peace.

Simple Magic

It stormed last night, complete with thunder and strobe-like lightening. I got up to pull my little seedlings under cover just in case the rain got hard. I must say, it was quite an electrifying show. The morning greeted me cool, calm and cloudy, and the day progressed with a mix of sun and cloud and barely a hint of humidity. It was a delight compared with the August-in-May day we had yesterday, and it made for a simply perfect garden day.

Dinner was simple. Fresh trout with rice mixed with garden herbs and a salad of store-bought romaine mixed with dandelion greens and other assorted garden goodies.

Dinner was followed by by a simple night out with a friend. Our original intention was to stand in loving prayer to quietly counter objectors that were expected to be protesting at a local high school performance of The Laramie Project. The simple intention worked on its own. The protesters didn't show, and we were able to attend a moving performance of light that shines in deep, deep darkness.

All in all, it made for a simply loving day. Peace.

A Transient Exit

The fireflies arrived last night on my little acre. I thought I was seeing things. It seems so early in the season for their evening beacons. But they cajoled to me to join them in exploring the comfort of darkness among the leaves and branches in mid-May ... and so I do.

I'll be back when I'm back ...

Peace.

A Return

I've been away from my little acre this past week and it feels so good to be home. I was met with enthusiastic greetings from all my home-based loved ones, the two-legged, the four-legged, the rooted ones ... and then some. This return reminded me of at least one reason why the color of love is green. Peace.

A New Day

Yesterday was one of those magical New England days. The kind of day where the weather takes on several roles, from delighted child, to moody teen … bored housewife to angry mother. The value of the performances, all worthy of ovation, almost went unnoticed until after the climax. The peak of the show came in the early evening, as I sat on the deck in the mix of sun and shade, talking to my mom on the phone. I noticed the dark, dark sky approaching from the west and could feel a storm tagging along. The breeze picked up and suddenly shifted to wind. The trees leaned into and away from one another as their chatter and dance picked up in volume and pace. I could feel that rain would be next as I moved my seedlings back indoors, still on the phone with my mother. The wind intensified. Drama and energy, dark and heavy, flew all around. The petals of the crabapple flew around like confetti in honor of a celebration I couldn’t quite comprehend. No sooner were my babies inside and my call concluded did the rain come, dark and heavy and hard.

Inside my little hut I prepped dinner for stovetop in lieu of the grill, which was my original intention. We sat and ate. By the time dinner was over the sun was out again, the air still and cool, and the only sign of the storm was drifting east and out of sight.

I marveled at the scent and taste of the air, the crispness of the landscape, and the feel of the stillness on my body as I sat outside in the gleaming rays of the waning sunshine.

All things pass, I felt a voice whisper. No matter how dark, moody, dramatic, dull or powerful … they pass. And the sun always shines on the transformation.

And I wake to make a new day today.

Peace.