There was a doubtless sincerity to the blue wash of the sky today – accented gently with sable, badger, hog-hair clouds; wisps of the mother’s eternal paintbrush. Today the wind smoothly outfitted the valleys and roads where no hills jutted, and in town it coyly began to disturb the branches of the trees. I could see leaves quivering in question today – to jump or not to jump: this is the autumn’s measured arrival. It’s a passive and quiet entrance, allowing the summer to dissolve in patience and respect. She is the great season of heat and growth – for months we were able to feast within the cozy of her womb. She enabled us, helped us germinate, allowed us to propagate, and in unity we flourished. Any hastiness we exhibited she automatically humbled.
We soaked the roots and fortified the dirt. We opened our lungs and inhaled the scent of water. We calculated weather patterns with superstitions and logic. We were (really) gracious to our logic and doubled (tripled) our superstitions. Many conversations were had with the sky, and many more were had with the ground. A third type of conversation was held with people. Many we knew, some we loved, and then an infinity of strangers to coax our souls. What held the most relevance was the spread of good vibration – to gift the opportunity to cultivate optimistic and intelligent choices. Gravity’s center is where you begin it – and you don’t need a lot of space to locate nirvana. When one grows: it’s for one’s self, for one’s neighbor, for our earth, and for overall health.
We watched the roots run deep, held our breaths, sighed loudly, and sucked on the roots for all that they contained. Nothing went to waste. It was a season of affirmations. Instead of searching for the truth we greeted one another face to face. Failures were accepted and embedded, and every waking moment was a rolling triumph into the next.
Now as summer steadies herself into gradual slumber we can look at our hands and caress the calluses. We can count the lines and draw conclusions. We can circle calendar days and dog-ear observations. We can momentarily relax, but delight in the solitary truth that the garden is perpetual. A quiet delirium kisses our temples – but this is the absolution and realization of the first wave of goals. To blossom our tiny accomplishments and save their seeds for the next bloom. To receive from the universe what we put into it. To enlighten and inspire. To leave nobody behind and to gather community. To base a life on the concentration of positivity. To feed our physicality with intention and poise. To nourish the soul and calm the ego. To bind both harmoniously within our bodies. The steps are organic, and the choice eternal.
I like the temperature change.
I am in love with these photos and your post title. Reading this post was like a meditation. I love our shared garden love. I am scared for my sweet potatoes. I looked out on them this morning and the leaves are turning yellow! I’ve never grown them before. I hope this isn’t too bad a sign.
Thank you Kathryn, I love to soak in your beautiful words – they mean so much to me. Our shared garden love is the best connection. It’s a serious treat to be able to meet like-minded, enthusiastic souls. If your sweet potato leaves are yellowing I could suggest to remove the leaves/plants that are exhibiting such. It could be weather related, but it could also be something else that likes sweet potatoes too. What comes to mind is fusarium wilt, check it out if you do a diagnostic of the plants. You have my best luck wishes. ♥
I love all of the funny-shaped vegetables!! My boyfriend’s family runs an organic vegetable farm in Virginia, and they always send me some hilarious sweet potatoes for my birthday.
Dani that sounds so splendid! I am originally from Virginia so I adore hearing stories about it or discovering connections back to it. I think funny vegetables need all the love too! The shapes they occasionally take on can be cosmically funny. I hope the oncoming weekend is good to you!
I’m coming to live with you so you can cook for me everyday! Looks fantastic.
You can come to live with me, and I will cook for you every day! And then put you to work in the garden before I give you a pillow! Heheh. Thank you Victoria!
I LOVE your writing here – the end of summer is always a slightly magical time. Also v v jealous of your garden – beautiful! Can’t wait until I have enough space to grow my own, I can imagine how rewarding it must be to cook with your own vegetables <3
Claudia thank you so much, it makes my heart flutter when I learn I’ve reached someone with words. The end of summer is proving to be ever so blissful right now – I am experiencing a super serene feeling as these temperatures slowly drop and the wind slowly picks up. On the garden: yes, it is incredibly fulfilling – and this is a feeling we only want to spread. ♥
Beautifully written, Danielle. My tiny garden taught me to appreciate the wonders of nature so much. The inspiration and magic are abundant in every nook and cranny <3
Thank you Audrey – the garden is such a humongous inspiration. The deeper I retreat the larger and lengthier my smiles. xoxo