The ancients believed that you can mend the cosmos by what you love and what you feel. Sparks of holiness intermingle with everything in the world, they preached, even still objects of beauty. By blessing the things you love – the sparkling tulips above – you soul drinks from the deep well of spirituality, it mends the world around you.
They believe the holy sparks sprung from the mouth of God, like the soul herself, breathed into us by God. I blessed these tulips this morning as they took up residence in my study window.
“Blessed are you, sparks of holiness, children of the sovereign, who brings forth bread and color and light from the earth.” If all of us did this every day at the same time, the angry and cruel people of the world would melt and wash away, their harsh voices would fade.
Although she never said so, I saw last year that Maria could hardly bear to be in her gardens, she loves them very much. I understand that this was because we feared losing our home in all of the bankruptcy and other turmoil, and she couldn’t bear to tend to her the house or gardens because she thought it would be unbearable if we had to leave them.
This year is different. We have painted the farmhouse, the living room, the dining room, the bathroom. More to come. We have added a fence to the rear pasture for rotational grazing. We hope to add electric baseboards to our bedroom so that it has heat in the summer.
None of these projects are ambitious or expensive, but they have made an enormous impact on the farm, inside and out.
Our gardens, planted several years ago, are maturing, thickening, blossoming beautifully. This year, we’ve expanded the garden in the back (above), and the Dahlia gardens (we are planting the bulbs next Saturday).
Last weekend, we planted the new Three Sisters garden – corn, squash, beans. The gardens look striking this year, they are thickening and maturing. The place looks loved and settled, and it is.
We have added mulch and our own composted manure (donkey manure is wondrous, if anyone wants to take some home from our Open Houses, bring a bag or box, it is free). We have weeded and are adding new plants and flowers. The garden looks great, and Maria is deeply and lovingly into caring for them.
I don’t know one flower from another, and can’t get on my knees for too long these days, but I help with the digging and planting and watering. (And I scour garden centers for original and colorful plants. Maria is not a shopper.)
And I love these gardens, in part because Maria does and in part because they add so much grace and beauty to our home and our lives.
The porch, as always, is a reflection of our lives – the old “Books” antique sign, Orson’s tombstone, Ed Gulley’s milk can chair and his Turtle sculpture. I’m putting Mr. Blockhead out there for the summer.
Fate has become a garden dog, she just loves working with people, especially Maria, and when Maria gardens, Fate is always by her side, sniffing the flowers, eating ants, looking for some love and attention. She is always trying to lure me to the pasture gate to work, she does everything but a line dance to get me interested.
Today, I saw Maria’s sneakers and socks drying out, and I got Maria some new flowers to plant. Fate came right over to check it out, she wants to be involved in everything, she is curious about everything. She is the perfect dog for Maria, who now has gotten herself another great dog for her.
Fate goes with Maria into the woods, into her studio, sits by her feet when she reads, curls up in bed with her in the morning, gardens with her in rain and sun.
Maria’s dog life proves that that there are many good ways to get the right dog. Frieda, adopted from a shelter, was the dog Maria needed then. The two were a wonderful pair. Fate is the dog she needs now. One came from a shelter, one came from a breeder. There is never just one way to get a dog.
Maria once was primarily interested in rescue, which is still close to her heat, but she is also interested in her life with the dog. That’s when it works out in miraculous ways, I believe.
Even thought she is not able to move the sheep or intimidate them, Fate is a working dog through and through. She loves to work, she lives for it. This morning, Red was limping a bit, I took Fate out to inspect the pasture, the animals were grazing out back. Fate loves to sit at the top of the hill and watch the animals graze, she also loves, on command, to go tearing out into the pasture and show me a spectacular outrun. Fate is Fate, a great partner and loving working dog. She has her own style, and it is quite wonderful.
The forest sprang to life this week, the canopy is covering the paths, the leaves are sprouting on the trees, there is green everywhere, the sound of songbirds, moss on the stone walls, ferns on the path. We are suddenly enveloped in green and damp soil. More than ever, the woods feels like a cathedral to us.
