Contrast and change in the garden is a key source of our interest. After many days of rain, the sudden appearance of clear blue skies invigorates our senses. New narcissus blooms jump up from the damp dark soil. The yellow flowers of the Marguerite bush (Chrysanthemum frutescens) light up a corner of the otherwise bare vegetable garden fence. Fresh new grass is everywhere: down orchard rows, in fields of winter wheat, across wide pasture lands - miles and miles of green. Across the northern edge of the wide Great Valley a skyline of snow capped peaks give birth to the rivers and creeks that feed our thirst for the divine waters of rejuvenation. The past autumn has blown way and the clear skies of winter hint softly of springtime. Sock caps are removed and sunshine warms my bald head.
"Down the Great Central Valley's
blossoming almond orchard acres
lines of tree trunks shoot a glance through
as the rows flash by -"
- Gary Snyder, "Covers the Ground",
"Mountains and Rivers Without End," 1996
Our deeping memories of seasonal changes,
the coming and going of the ten thousand things,
the intimate universe within our hat brims -
blossom out as our daily surprise,
our mature love for this world,
our enduring youthful wonder.
I take the apricot and peach stems in my hand,
break open their rough brown bones,
but cannot find even a slight hint of a single pink blossom,
no marvelous sign of a plump peach,
no heart of a leaf,
only the pregnant water of wood.
Blessed Be!
9:25:48 AM 
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