Next door things are hopping in the greenhouses. Savory herbs, vegetables and tomatoes are started, some well on their way having been transplanted, already, to the 4" pots. Oh, they are all so beautiful. The rain was hard on all the little growing things. For instance, my salad greens are gone. No poppies, either. Garlic going strong, as well as the potatoes. Fruit trees, as of the last four days, are blooming with abandon. Please don't agree with the weekend forecast: rain.
These are the Beefsteaks. You can tell by their potatoey leaves. Did you know these guys are all related? They are. More closely, even, than that we are all related. Potatoes and Tomatoes are of the 'toe family. Yes. I often get accolades for my scientific vocabulary. Believe me, I get the family-tree concept.
Here are the late bloomers. They are stretching, and that's not the best, but under Jolee's gentle touch, they will all transplant to bigger trays. Today, I believe.
"...as we contemplate change, we often pull back a little and stop rehearsing our lives with our loved ones." J. Cameron This, from my reading this morning. Interesting to consider pulling-in, or back a little, is not in this instance, withdrawing from reality or responsibility. Rather, it is a moment or meditation to be still long enough to discern what is really going on within. For me it takes considerable concentration to be quiet, to listen to the still small voice gain strength and speak. Yes, this practice rewards consistently.
Wildness catapulted to profusion in a few warm days. My walk this morning revealed big buds on the grape vines, which may, by tomorrow, be leaves and tiny flowers. The momentum forward is never really thwarted, no matter how nasty things close-in may look. All this, I suppose, is showing me that to hang on is pointless.
To me it appears that God is just wild about Life. Maybe reading my friend Hafiz' poetry all these years has influenced (oh I hope so!) me. My prayer out in the vineyard this morning, was that I be able to ride this wave of excitement, fear, anticipation with open-hearted tenacity. Then, just now, I found this poem.
A Barroom View of Love
I would not want all my words
To parade around this world
In pretty costumes,
So I will tell you something
Of the Barroom view of Love.
Love is grabbing hold of the Great Lion's mane
And wrestling and rolling deep into Existence
While the Beloved gets rough
And begins to maul you alive.
True Love, my dear,
Is putting an ironclad grip upon
The sore, swollen balls
Of a Divine Rogue Elephant
Not having the good fortune to Die!
I say yes, to that.