Haven

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

.

xoxo,

Sunny