Tuesday, May 13, 2014


The back yard has become the place where we run

and gently harvest the fruits of our labor.
But is it labor if it's refilling something empty inside?
Is it really work if it's healing you?

I laid in the hammock on Mother's Day and listened to the holy trinity of palm trees
preach peace and I rested in this place, really relaxed into the living.

Relaxing gave way to a different kind of surrender, more walls coming down between me
and the Hand that cradles me all the time,
whether I trust it or not
whether I fight the journey
or celebrate it

I'm terrified often.
I worry about O and the world he's going to experience
and I strive to find a haven for my wringing hands.

I find it in the garden and I find it in the way I cannot cling no matter how I try
that all things sift through our hands eventually as soil does
and we cannot definitively find the answers for all of our 'why's,
and my peace comes from knowing that 'why' is not where's it's at anyways:
the glory is in Being the How.

And in being silly

on a hot afternoon with a boy and a backyard.

On a side note: this summer is the first year of my life I've done a cartwheel.
I never once had the courage to do them before, to be groundless like that:
I did monkey hops. I demurred. 

I think it's the weight-lifting. I'll tell you more about that later as it ties in very directly with a series I'm working on, the body and its wonders


The garden is humming

and the dying covered-in-fungus peach tree that greeted us when we moved in
is covered.....in fruit!!! And the leaves are verdant and healthy!

the beans are climbing

the leaf miners are arm-wrestling me every fucking day for control over the beet greens:
I refuse to give in. Apparently so do they.
Touche, bugs.

Life is humming a very bittersweet and beautiful tune all the time,
quite like my child who is growing up quickly and gathering
all the good food and sweet times
into burly limbs and bear paws.

He is my richest jewel, my plumpest beet.

He breaks my heart open every day innocently and replaces it with a new one,
each cell programmed to love and support every intention
but mostly to beat in wonder of him
all of my living days



pencilfox said...

love everything about this post:
your cartwheel.
chasing after orion.
the garden photos.
the love you feel and write about, so openly and honestly....

Allisunny S. said...

He is the world to me. Thank you so much for your kind words and presence here: you are welcome in my garden anytime :)

Joanna DeVoe said...

Such a sweet post and... muscles!!! Beautiful, feminine muscles... Yay for cartwheels!

thewindhover said...

Oh Allison! This post makes me all kinds of happy... You are a dear and true soul and are mothering truly and beautifully. xx

Lizzie Derksen said...

I have always, always wanted to be able to turn a cartwheel. Add to all the other ways you inspire me the addition of this new summer goal.

"But is it labor if it's refilling something empty inside?
Is it really work if it's healing you?" I say yes--but only because I'm coming to the conclusion that "work" that harms and depletes and breaks down a person is not work, because, in the important spheres, it can't accomplish anything.