Just For You!

Freshly scratched earth.  Moved all the "weeds" to the hen yard.

I did it for you.  We've had a spot of sun today. I grabbed it and ran outside to scratch in the earth, move a few mislocated plants into the hen yard for the girls to eat, and tend the chicken house.

Not bragging here over the good fortune of our good weather. I've been reading your posts of the increasing intensity of yearning for spring, for dirt, for seeds and sprouts, for the warmth of the sun. And I know that many of you are sitting out your umpteenth snow storm while your hands clench the seed catalog and a hot drink.

That's why I rushed outside.  It was the most important of Things I get to do today:  to use the little window of dry sun to honor all your longings.  Is it not easier to bear a thing if you know the situation is not universal, if you know that someone, somewhere is holding the light, the hope, the vision so that you can yourself break through once more into your bliss?  The snow will melt.  The sun will shine.  The earth will warm.  Seeds will sprout.  All is well.  I did this for you.

Down to Earth

Last summer's hydrangea moving gently toward earth.

It feels like one of those days.  No new adventures. The Things I get to do today will be "catch up," "pick up," "tidy up," "clean up." The only adventure is in prepositions, but not everything is "up." Most of it will be outside, with the chickens, in the yard, in the soil, down to earth.

Garden soil, freshly tilled by the Gang of Five

As I'm tidying up in the back yard, the girls are safe to roam out of the hen pen. Their soft conversation is soothing as a summer breeze.

A primrose missed by the chickens--
no claw or beak signatures on the leaves.

Red earthworms zip back into the dark, wet dirt like released rubber bands, their dense cover of leaves having been ripped off an instant before.  The hens are quick with eye and beak, tooth and claw.  All the bugs and slugs are dispatched with a gulp and most of the plants get a strong-footed going-over.  It is not gentle.





There is no rush.  Rake a few leaves here.  Stack wood there.  Pick up branches downed from the last good tree-pruning wind.  Head out of the clouds, mind away from the computer, thoughts free to rest--body and soul down to earth.