Nearly 3 months, a quarter, a season now.
Weeks ago the leaves came out later than anywhere around us and everything changed completely.
Each leaf revealed the surprise answer to our attempts at Winter botany. All the sudden, old friends get new names; and, all the sudden, there are hundreds of unnamed new friends just now showing up.
Pickle has been bathing in the creek. I didn’t think I ever could feel like I was bathing in something so shallow. Then, today the creek flowed with our five inches of rain like the ones I know from the mountains. I could hear its song more clearly than I ever had. Seeing it flowing so strongly is like seeing into another time in this forest; past or future, I don’t know. I yearn for the creek to flow more fully, even while knowing its gentleness is also its health. I have so much to learn about supporting the life of this creek.
The field where I hope to grow food survived the record rains, shining. The little channels carried the rain down to the little basin and on to the creek below. Working with water through a contoured garden feels profoundly freeing and life-giving.
I feel like fresh air is entering into the spaces between everything and that everything is only ever made of more and more spaces between the spaces between. I imagine this is how lichen feels.