It is way cold. June 2. 46 degrees. A hot day or two in between. But it's ok.
We've little invested for food growing this year.
Except for greens. Greens grow well in the cool.
But really, that's all we really eat, or need to eat.
Grains and beans and greens.
Wild Raspberries are taking over here. Now that we let them. And the grapes are doing well on their own. Growing over dead brush from hurricane Sandy. Blueberries will yield plenty but probably after we are gone. Fruit. The rest is just now obtained through support of local growers here. It's what they do to get by. Fair enough.
So many thoughts about why we get so tangled up in the doing that which unbalances the way things could just be. And be fine.
There are lots of flowers though. Just growing.
This is a photo collage. An accidental window. Lily buds over a stitched cloth I call Nine for Growth. In process.
There are thoughts about growth as Design Mending.
One thing over another and New Form. The thing that might run through it. Hold it together Because this is how my mind works. A lot.
Not new things, just patching them together to make them useful.
The top from an old garlic keeper. Clay. The bottom broke. I had to grind the holes a bit larger to fit the incense sticks.
The little jug, an old mustard crock. From a time when I was into mustard. Now I am just into crocks.
The blue bowl, Dad bought in New Mexico. My parents used to go camping across the States. And my dad used to seek out this particular potter. He used to sell somewhere out there. Blue bowls. I took one after Mom died. My brother has the others.
The cloth... Nine for Peace. Now aka A Newer World Order. Part of the Crossroads series.
I am thinking a lot about which things I will keep when we move. We want to stay loose and light.
Today will be warmer. Rain has waited till tomorrow.
Early this morning Mr. Robin ran by. So quickly I could hardly catch a shot. I caught him between breaths.
Last night I turned the cloth. This morning just looking. Like some sort of Permaculture. All there underneath. Waiting. Supporting growth. This is the earthen side.
Yesterday. It was Easter. I do not celebrate. But Mom did. I was reminded of how she would line up jelly beans in the hallways while we slept. Little candy breadcrumbs we could follow to find our Easter baskets. She always told us the Easter Bunny must have dropped them on his way through I smiled to myself and said maybe I should make a little holiday cloth. Stitch some jelly beans. But I sat, lost in thought. I thought about my Mom. Who she was. What she gave me. What she gave everyone.
Holidays were not rituals to her. Not banners of belief and doctrine. They did not include or exclude. They were for everyone within reach. They were a way, excuses really, for her to return to a simpler time. Childhood. And share that. Give that back over and over. The love and the fun and the sense of simple joy and laughter. And she did. Over and over. As long as she could. I see it now as a reminder. To push the pause button. To get back.
And when I sat with the cloth this morning. With it's simpler side. I saw them. The stones that trace the rings of my basket-self. The jelly beans.
CandyLand was always my favorite game.
I am going outside. For the day. To stick my hands in the dirt and let winter blow off me. Ride my bike.