Runoff elections. Insurrection. A much-needed escape for reflection.
And yet, there is no quiet.
The earth throbs with energy and the pulsating presence of its life force punctures our short winter here in the southeastern United States. Birds and buds and flowing water surrounds me. Mossy green and fresh, new clover abounds.
I leap between a rock and a hard place, so apropos to the pervading feeling of Now, and then sit on the granite ledge where I used to read The New York Times Magazine as my daughters dodged snakes in the creek below on Sunday mornings.
And now we dodge snakes, in other ways.
I look for signs. Awakenings. The interrelationships between the very breath of being, the phenology of things, as it is the only way to know when to plant during this climate of change.
It won’t be long until forsythias, and that will mean it’s time to plant peas.
Peas on earth.
And I am here for it.
See this post for more tips, including using phenology, to plant your garden. See Food for My Daughters (book and blog) for more tips and inspiration. All proceeds are used to help more people grow food.