I have a new project that is in the works. You can find me at www.planteverywhere.com.  It’s just a newborn yet, still finding its place and shape.  But, hopefully good things will come of it.

I am signing off, now.  I will miss it here.  But I will leave you with this poem:

MANIFESTO: THE MAD FARMER LIBERATION FRONT
By Wendell Berry

Love the quick profit, the annual raise, and vacation with pay.
Want more of everything made.
Be afraid to know your neighbors and to die.
And you will have a window in your head.
Not even your future will be a mystery any more.
Your mind will be punched in a card and shut away in a little drawer.
When they want you to buy something they will call you.
When they want you to die for profit they will let you know.
So, friends, every day do something that won’t compute.
Love the Lord. Love the world. Work for nothing.
Take all that you have and be poor.
Love someone who does not deserve it.
Denounce the government and embrace the flag.
Hope to live in that free republic for which it stands.
Give your approval to all you cannot understand.
Praise ignorance,
For what man has not encountered he has not destroyed.
Ask the questions that have no answers.
Invest in the millennium.
Plant sequoias.
Say that your main crop is the forest that you did not plant,
That you will not live to harvest.

Say that the leaves are harvested when they have rotted into the mold.
Call that profit. Prophesy such returns.
Put your faith in the two inches of humus that will build under the trees
Every thousand years.
Listen to carrion–put your ear close,
And hear the faint chattering of the songs that are to come.
Expect the end of the world.
Laugh. Laughter is immeasurable.
Be joyful though you have considered all the facts.
So long as women do not go cheap for power,
Please women more than men.
Ask yourself: Will this satisfy a woman satisfied to bear a child?
Will this disturb the sleep of a woman near to giving birth?
Go with your love to the fields.
Lie easy in the shade. Rest your head in her lap.
Swear allegiance to what is nighest your thoughts.
As soon as the generals and politicos can predict the motions
Of your mind, lose it.
Leave it as a sign to mark the false trail, the way you didn’t go.
Be like the fox who makes more tracks than necessary,
Some in the wrong direction.
Practice resurrection.

I like:

-how light I feel when I walk down the street alone.

-the weight of the baby against my chest when we walk together.

-drinking wine, again.

-seeing Reed in his cradle after a long afternoon nap, realizing I’ve missed him.

-calling Reed a turtle when he makes his turtle face.

-Adam.

-autumn.

And then, all of a sudden, it happened. We sat down at a big conference table with leather chairs and a stack of paperwork. We signed our names hundreds of times, and the owner handed us her many keys. Then we drove home.

Yup. Home.

�O you,
still a child, and slow to grow.
Still talking to God and thinking the snow
is the sound of God listening,
and winter is the high-ceilinged house
where God measures with one eye
an ocean wave in octaves and minutes
and counts on many fingers
all the ways a child learns to say Me.�
-Li-Young Lee, “Hymn to Childhood”

My books are stacked in boxes, but the best stay close in my mind.

I like drive-ins.

My favorite song this week: With my dear friend embarking on the sweet start of wedding planning, I have been listening to this song a lot.

My favorite pastime of the week: Reading. I have found myself swimming in an abundance of good books. East of Eden. Dorothy Day: Selected Writing. Guns, Germs, and Steel. The Prophetic Imagination. I like them all so much, I am breaking my two at a time rule and trying to read them all at once. Totally worth it.

My favorite daydream of the week: Turning that house into something wonderful and sitting in the backyard in the summer.

My favorite nighttime dream of the week: A beautiful baby.

Finishing Jayber Crow, walking everywhere in the sun and watching the flowers come up beside the sidewalk, anticipating Easter, waking early, watching the first little seedlings pop their heads up in the old egg cartons, preparing for house hunting, smelling spring smellss, eating homebaked muffins.

Ah.

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He was growing that beard just for me.

Imagine fall rolled in over night and you left all the windows open. Adam had trouble getting out of the warm bed, and you hopped downstairs with him to move your bike so he could get to work. It was still dark and you were in your pajamas, folding your cold arms in front of you and tasting that sweet, spicy air. You curl back into bed just to lie a while. When you get back up you are wiser, and bundle several layers over your pajamas, taking time to close the windows of the flat. The cupboards are bare, so you begin baking bread. You get write while it rises. Your fresh clothes are cold against your skin.

On break at work, the tables outside are empty. You like it better that way. The street is nice and quiet. The steam from your cup rises into the cool afternoon while you munch on trail mix and write a poem. You will have more hot chocolate when you get home. The wind is cold as you make your way there, but it feels good, and your yellow hat warms your ears. The streets are littered with leaves.

Jonah: What about you? Do you know what you want to do?

Me: Right now, I’m more interested who I want to be than what I want to do.

Jonah: Who do you want to be?

Me: Well, I guess I just want to be the woman I was born to be.

Jonah: Yes! Say it again.

Me: I want to be the woman I was born to be.

Jonah: One more time! Louder!

Me: I want to be the woman I was born to be!

It was a sweet moment on a dark street between two strangers, and surprisingly candid for such a guarded girl as myself. I’ve been learning so much these days about women and people and who we are born to be. I’ve been learning that I have so much to learn.

That’s all. I just wanted to tell you.

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Oh, my. I love this story. What a wonderful moment. What a wonderful person. What a wonderful thing it is to be human.