My tangle of peas in the garden is doing so well. As clouds huddled and thunder growled overhead, I worked the damp rows Saturday pulling weeds, spreading compost, checking for signs of trouble.
I love listening to nature's music as I work in the garden. Birds. Butterfly wings. Wind mimicking waves as it sails through leaves of nearby oaks. I close my eyes and listen and breathe until I feel my heart slow... feel my shoulders shrug off the load I forgot I carry.
In the garden, at the piano, and near my stove I feel tethered to something real again. I feel whole. I feel as if everything's going to be okay.
Amazing how a patch of dirt and tangled vines can do that...