It as been so hot here in the mountains. The Summer Solstice has yet to arrive and we have been near 90 degrees. I spend my days making sure the animals are comfortable and have fresh cold water to cool them, shade and frozen water bottles in the hutches.
Yesterday late afternoon into evening, I went out planting again, pushing past my swollen knees, the still sweltering heat, and my mind begging to quit. But I didn't quit. I planted three more rows of tomatoes and weeded the bush beans.
I find that when I do push past the discomfort, It is the predominately the mental I have to overcome. The "I can't do this" tapes, instead turn it into, "I am doing it" album. I get into a new zone in my being. With the body and mind now working together, something quite beautiful happens.
Digging into the earth, loosening the soil with my hands, I ready the tomato's new home. Touching the earth brings me to a grounded place. Literally and figuratively. As the sweat is dripping from my face, slightly stinging my eyes, I work in the heat that I now consider my personal sauna. The earth is still cool, deep under the top soil. Dark organic clay dirt, the kind you might make use for a facial. I run it through my hands playing with the dirt like a child, then placing a precious plant, which I grew from seed. Each plant, is filled with the love and nurturing from the sun, water, soils and my hand. They each have a network of tiny white baby roots reaching for more. I carefully place each in a hole and crumble the cool moist earth around it with both hands, giving myself a dirt manicure.
My higher self watches and I witness an extraordinary earthly creature, along with the others, potato bugs, earth worms, and the robins happily pecking on the far side of the garden.
I have talked about this before, but I stands repeating, mostly for myself.
Who I am is holy.
Where I am is holy.
What I do is holy.
An epiphany in my little farm spa and resort. On my natural mountain high.
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| hole-y plastic with tomatoes |
~crow
