As we gather on My Front Porch to launch our fourth year together, I guess it’s time to reflect on our own reflections. There is no better time to take inventory, assess progress, analyze set backs, repair and renew than this:
The Days of Autumn.
I am deeply grateful to have the guidance of the natural world at my doorstep.
A stroll around the Millpond where the geese are noisily launching their migration reminds me that beyond all the cacophony there is the imperative of the journey, the simple directive of instinct that guides us there and back again.
You can’t really see the forest until you get to know the trees.
Only in autumn do the massive Ponderosa and Jeffrey Pines appear to take a step back revealing Aspen, Cottonwood, Oak and Maple , the fire dancers. While vastly outnumbered by evergreens, the deciduous trees capture our hearts with their fleeting display. It’s the show we remember, with no lack of nostalgia for the days of our youth.
This year my small vegetable patch belonged to the cutest (and subsequently fattest) little bunny rabbit on the planet. I found myself looking for him every morning and worrying if I didn’t see him for a few days. I realized that I love that bunny WAY more than spinach. That discovery should have come as no surprise, but sometimes human priorities get a little skewed by the old work ethic. We work hard and we expect to enjoy the fruits of our labor, but when expectation morphs into feelings of entitlement, it’s good to take a step back into innocence and the irresistible adorableness of bunnies. Godspeed Peter Cottontail, next year I’ll throw in some carrots.
A garden is a lovingly tended space. For me that space is in the mountains in a little town called Graeagle.
I am well fed.