The country roads near the farm often present the drama of expanse and almost hidden surprises. How far can the eye see out on that horizon? How small do the trees appear in the distance, that seem so large up close? The vast spaciousness lies within, too. It might be easier to feel it when standing under dramatic skies. A friend recently told me she thinks I never stop. “Stopping” is for every morning and every moment of the day when Remembrance occurs – remembrance of Presence, of inner spaciousness, of Service to others, of connectedness. Pause. Witness your self. Notice beauty in the little things. Remember. Write. Nature helps. Like how the roadside flowers harmonize with Sage’s blue.
And how someone mysteriously set up “lattice” on a remote roadside fence, for flowers to climb – seen only by the few that walk by.
Barn raising is making room for what flows next, in this case. The farm has a quaint charm to it. The new barn, though modestly sized, reminds me of the farm I loved as a child in Yorkville, Illinois, the home of Aunt Sue and Uncle Jerry. Can it be there is something mystical about tools waiting in their places to be worked by human hands? Something intriguing about last season’s tomato stakes waiting for next year’s crop? Bee boxes stacked high with expectancy of Spring? If noticed, late Summer/early Fall breezes are soothing and contemplative, flowing around with reminders of those who have gone before and what is yet to come.
wakingtoyournature 