Some years everything comes together, and some years you have to strap together with iron bands and blood sweat, and ingenuity. And this has been one of those years that tested my skills and stamina.
My garden feeds my soul and my well being, fires my imaginations, lifts my spirits, and lets me touch the infinite, and oh yeah, provides me with tomatoes, cukes, beans and pumpkins. potatoes and the awesomely tasty home grown Brussels Sprouts.
I still get a rush when I seed tiny plants breaking through the soil, well not so much the weeds, the wonder of a sprouting seed, can overwhelm me. Some where I learned a saying that went something like" anyone can count the seeds in an apple, but only Gaia can count the apples in a seed", and to that one humbly adds how far those seeds and apples can travel while I work. Can they or will they travel as far as my thoughts do. The woods are full of apple trees, some mark the place where homesteads or logging camps once stood, but many were planted by birds and other animals. Or perhaps by Johnny Appleseed, who was based on a real person: named John Chapman (September 26, 1774 – March 11, 1845), who planted orchards not random plantings of trees, true apples are not native to North America.
Watching the clouds sail by as I work, and the patterns of light and shadow, color and motion, it is almost like a ballet. Almost. The birds, ad grace notes with their song, and their comings and goings. Sometimes I respond to their calls, and they even answer me. The wind, refreshes me, with it soft whispers, and sometimes it mad rush through the trees, carrying sweet and not so sweet smells. There are no days when the outside world and it's noises and distraction appear to have disappeared. Gives one the feeling that raising food is really only part of having a garden.