Our big fig tree is starting its yearly bounty. I can't wait to make
fig preserves this year and pick the fruit right on our deck!
Two days ago I turned a pot of this:
All that to say, it's been peaceful and slow here. A slow rain falls today. I've sat in the cedar tree's shade with Ned and felt the calm of God's good Earth around me. Lately, this poem by Wm. B. Yeats reflects my mood (except I would not live alone):
The Lake Isle of Innisfree
I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree
And a small cabin build there of clay and wattles made:
Nine bean rows will I have there, and a hive for the honeybee;
And live alone in the bee-loud glade.
And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow,
Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings;
There midnight's all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow,
And evening full of linnet's wings.
I will arise and go now, for always night and day
I hear the lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore;
While I stand on the road way or on the pavements grey,
I hear it in the heart's deep core.