Life has been almost too full at Full Moon Cottage this week.
Let me sum up: One month without rain became several months, and the lack of precipitation was then labeled a “severe drought” in our SE corner of the state. We’ve been rising earlier and earlier during this time, because the cooler dawn temperatures have allowed for easier pup-walking and what’s become increasingly stressful garden-tending. (Thankfully, there is cooler weather ahead, or else by the Solstice, we’d just lie down a few minutes around midnight and get up again.)
It’s been devastating to see our dear river dwindling and fading away, devoured by evaporation. Rainstorms have scattered all around us since April, but never here, as though an evil spell cast by some trickster had conjured an invisible wall around our little part of the Earth. Every time a storm blew toward us from the west or north, it dissipated to airy nothingness before any moisture fell. In our 25 years, the river has not been this low. Scorched and parched scenery, everywhere.
The gardens have continued to grow and bloom a bit, but have required 5-hour watering stints (both of us with hoses, on either side of the house) at least once a week, in searing heat.
We’ve headed out on adventures, when we could, to get away from the dismal drought and the dryness of land and spirit it’s caused. This week, we went to our local farmers’ market, held around the town square. Such a small town and insignificant event, it would seem, but it wasn’t, at all; this little gathering was our first maskless contact with other humans in over a year. (We’re still among the very few who wear them in stores, figuring if the employees have to wear them, we will, too. And I’m not anxious to tangle with the Delta variant and be one of those few who’s vaccinated and still catches Covid-19.)
But outside, on a lovely–finally cooler and breezy–day? It was like a hall pass to heaven-as-I-imagine-it. Being human with humans: what joy! Right out of our car, my darling tall Phillip helped this woman erect her stand.
And I had a fascinating visit with the interesting gentleman who, with his wife, runs the honey stand. He shared his history as a former store-owner, and then a painting contractor who’d done much of the stunning detail work on our town’s 19th-century buildings, and now, a purveyor of raw and processed honey, and maple syrup. There were a few other careers in there, but I was gentled into amazement, listening with tears stinging behind my sunglasses, drinking in another person’s story and marveling at the way our words and facial expressions opened us to each other. Such a miracle and profound gift. I’m not certain, but I think sparks of light passed between us. Maybe they always do, and it’s taken a pandemic for me to realize it, to see human connection for what it is. Certainly, we were nourished by these encounters. It’s led me to ponder the gift of life, the chance to be authentic with each other and to share our stories–how these things make us food for each other, and how this diet of each other’s humanity is required if, as a species, we’ll ever be truly healthy. Take and eat; offer and share; feed and be fed; be grateful, be grateful, be grateful.
Then, yesterday, I was gifted with one of Phillip’s Excellent Gluten-Free Brownies (also spirit food, in my book), hot from the oven at 6 A.M., to celebrate my birthday. Once again, it was time for the dreaded watering ordeal. But the forecast predicted a slight possibility of showers in the evening, so we decided to water the newbies and wait to see if rain (was there such a thing?) took care of the larger perennials later. As we watered the seedlings, a lovely storm once again passed mysteriously right over us…Here’s Phillip in the veggie garden, looking as though he’ll get very wet indeed. Nope. Not a drop. All thunder, no rain. So discouraging!
But what a treat to then spend the day relaxing with my beloveds. I received birthday greetings and calls from many friends and relations around the world, which really is the gift of celebrating a birthday at this point in my life: to be reminded how very rich I am in friends and family who bless and enlighten me with their stunning gifts. My goodness, the messages were touching. And I realized again how “full” I felt at day’s end. Fed by all that love.
The pandemic enforced a severe drought in human connection and contact. Until it was re-established, I hadn’t felt the depth of deprivation, but this week has really emphasized for me how we feed each other our humanity in our words and interactions. Or starve each other through our cruelty and ignorance.
And the best birthday gift (other than the 4-leggeds and Phillip) was delivered at 2 A.M. this morning: torrents and torrents of rain, well over an inch, falling into the arms of our gardens and the trees, bushes, thirsty birds and animals, and the dear river–all of us drinking in our beloved Mother Earth.
It is comforting in the night to speak to Love about one’s sorrows and worries, but it’s just extraordinarily fizzy and lightening to close one’s day with nothing but “thank you” on one’s lips. May we all have many more such days, and use our gifts to ensure others do, too. Watch for the sparks of light that pass between you as you eat and drink the moments of nourishing being you share, to fullness!
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11 thoughts on “Sharing the Food We Are”
May this year be filled with all that your heart desires…
As you share the food that you are, I celebrate the gifts that you offer…
Your words whispering, singing and delighting in your beautiful poetry and your thoughtful musings. Each time I find a new offering in my mailbox, the moment is perfect for a sacred Pause…
Comforting and full of Gentle Peace.
I, a grateful reader celebrate you!
What a kind and beautiful response, Mary, and so greatly appreciated this beautiful almost-summer morning! You’ve touched my heart, and I thank you. Blessings on your week’s end, and gentle peace. ~ Kitty
May there be plenty more summer rains to restore what’s been depleted. Your opening reminded me so much of our drought here a few years back, and I think once anyone goes through such an extreme, they’ll forever value the gift of water thereafter.
Also good to hear the perspective from an advanced vaccinated area. We’re going pretty slowly here in South Africa, but still moving at least. I really wonder if this time next year, we’ll finally be past all this and the masks will be gone (except for those who choose to keep them).
Yes, I agree with you, Yacoob. We went through a previous drought in 2012, but had received more rain early in the spring. This year isn’t an entirely new experience, but more drastic. We adapt as best as we can, and, as you say, water becomes ever more precious.
I admit I’m a bit worried about the Delta variant of Covid, since so many here have not chosen the vaccination. I fear their own health may be in jeopardy, but also that they’re leaving us all open to further-developing and more dangerous variants though their .
lack of foresight.
Thank you for visiting and sharing; I enjoy your always-thoughtful comments so much, Yacoob.
Peace and joy to your week.
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Happy belated birthday. Oh, what a joy it was to read this post. I love, love. love it!!! You were out, talking to people and exchanging light, as you do virtually. You got rain! Oh, how marvellous it was to read every single word here!!! Hugest love and hugest hugs to you all.xxxxxxxx
Yay! I’m glad the post gave you joy. We received a bit more rain over the weekend and have had gloriously cooler snd breezy weather for a few days, too… like a reprieve from Mother Nature’s wrath (not that she doesn’t have good reason). Summer like we remember it. 😍 Hope you’re enjoying lovely days, too! Sending love, Kitty
Little by little, we are getting out; I am willing to be maskfree outside, but in stores, like you, am also still playing it safe. At least for now. Happy to hear your enjoyment of joining the human race again; I’ll be doing a little of that myself this coming weekend. And the rain – no one minds the downpours after so much dry weather. And Happy Birthday! A Gemini, I gather! Take care, Jeanne
Joy to your weekend festivities, Jeanne! Yes, for now, outside feels safe, but it depends if the spaces are open or crowded. The Delta variant is here in our state and my area is about 50-50 regarding facts and vaccinations. We’ll see. The weather’s been so lovely and a bit of rain is coming, off and on, so we’re really enjoying it all for the gift it is. Feels like a summer; last year did not. The vaccine has really made a difference, and I’m sooooo grateful to the people who absolutely rocked it’s development. ♥️
Thank you for your visits and comments; they mean so much to me!
I just checked my county – as I currently don’t have much reason to leave it – 52.6% fully vaccinated and 60.8% one vaccine, which is 82% effective. Not so bad. We’re considered one of the lowest risk counties in NJ. That’s a plus. But for those of us whose immune systems are challenged, it always seems a little riskier.
Yes on those who developed the vaccine – for their knowledge, dedication, and desire to work with others towards a common goal. Woo hoo! is right.
Have a wonderful day, Kitty.
p.s. Just call me Anonymous! LOL. I’d logged out but had a thought … 🙂
Yes, my darn immune system requires a bit more diligence, too, but HOORAY for your county! That’s gotta help you feel a bit more confident stepping out. Have fun. Sending love, Kitty