on hands and knees in rows of beans in the morning sun picking and eating, looking out on rice lake, sharing thoughts and ideas and moments of quiet with beautiful company and a smiley bean of a baby perched in a laundry basket.
down country roads through rolling hills eating groundcherries singing along with buddy and julie with the windows down.
finding home in a field among strangers and friends. music that moves me inside and out. sun soaked sweaty skin. dirty toes. no sense of time.
eating together. sleeping together. living together. the stories and stresses and gifts and discoveries that ooze out of such intimacy and proximity.
full moon at night fires and songs and sweet irish cream. blackouts and wipeouts and moments i wish i could undo and millions more that i wound never change even if i could.
journey home through wild gardens and secret streams. blueberry tea in a funny shaped house. honest conversation, words that come from the belly and the heart. friends that make even shitty days worth waking up for.
deep breathes and no breathes, tired and sleepless a jumble of wakefulness and wondering.
the fullness of gratitude. the richness of living. the gift that was just sitting there, waiting.