 


A dynamic time of year.  Is anyone else feeling it?  A little coarse,  rude, and hard to navigate at times.  First sweet intoxication, smelly  sensations everywhere, blossoms soliciting their nectar and jubilant  demand for attention.  We wanna be outdoors.  All the time.
Bloom  Report says quince, buck eye, strawberry, redbud, dogwood, lilac, sweet  cicily, azalea, now iris.  Being in the Spring now for 2 months.  The  soil has worn off our hands now for weeks.   And now is about the time  where the rubber meets the road and gardening.
I woke today  tired.  And brittle.  My body has been working it for 2 months and is  needing TLC and I can't find the reserve to make it so.   Gardening  activity is tiring.  The projects around here are big (and inspiring)  and require water and a song to set up a thriving situation.
And that's okay.
In  my melancholy morning, I thought to take a seat and try breaking a many  month meditation fast.  That helped.  And smiling to my heart.  During  the exercise, Mother Earth said to me, "the seeds you sow take time to  ripen.  You know that.  You also know baby steps can be hard to see the  progress.  The dandelion trusts that at least a few brilliant ideas will  find their 

fertile ground in time".
The newly transplanted  elderberry, hops, rosa rugosa, peaches, etc.  are needing mulching and  our shipment of hay hasn't come in yet.  This commitment and devotion to  the plant world comes 
on strong.  The obligation can feel overwhelming as a farmer.
"It's  an incremental thing", she says.  "These activities remind yourself to bend, to fortify  yourself, practice self-care for you body mind and spirit.  That might  not be such a bad thing to be reminded of every once in awhile."

I  laid in the hammock for my first visit this year.  Before the  dreamworld overtook me completely, I stirred to a black widow walking  down my arm.  I watched her and asked her to be on her way peacefully.   Last week in the garden, I had intuitions of asking for protection from  the spider kingdom.  Sure enough, a black widow was on the bottom 

of my  bucket where I was to place my finger.  I'm still sorting out what 2 encounters in one with with black widows means to me.
I ate my first strawberries from the ground after  the sow bugs dug a few dents.  I asked them to step aside.  Bringing the strawberry to my lips, they were perfectly rosey and deep and succulent.  Right.  I remember.  A reminder to tend the joy inside. 
~ Keri
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 

 
