Big winds last night: doors blew open…I awoke to chilly temps and scattered plants and seeds…sheets or notes and and tarot cards. It was as if I descended the stairs and strolled magically into a scene from the Wizard of Oz—Northeastern style. After catching the ducks and re-grouping them, I walked the property: all but the sheep emitted some sense of “wow! wowah! and are we ok now????” And now, as I sip coffee and witness the beautiful sun, so soft yet strong, bringing some sort of renewal to the corn fields and grasses, I ponder the great task of PUTTING THE GARDENS TO REST for the winter.
I think of this as “tucking them in.” Never done in haste. Always with honor. It’s the 22nd…and I’ve elected to wait. Though I’m called to “get it done,” that is JUST NOT RIGHT. I listen: It’s …just, not, right. Some part of me has this urgency to put her down, but there is so much growth still in each garden. I am curious about this urge, need and (truthfully) anxiety: who am I answering too? Why the anxiety? What’s the need and push? Answer: it really stems from my detachment from nature. It’s my “time machine” head that pushes. Nature just rolls along. I think I will learn to roll today.