An Evening in the Garden

This evening was spent in the garden.

Picking pie cherries

Thinning the veined beets

Cropping the spicy arugula

Weeding the feathered carrots

Pinching off the tomato suckers

Trimming the rainbow chard

Cutting some super-kale

Trellising the baby peas

Encouraging the not-so-giant beans

Hoping for the not-so-hot peppers

Cheering on the daddy-long-leg zucchini’s

Picking a few pungent herbs,

And finally settling into hours of dusky twilight.

As I write this, I am sipping my gin and tonic (with freshly squeezed lime & a muddle of  freshly cut mint and basil, naturally), sitting by the fire on my patio amongst my sea of trees, in my little mountain meadow and just taking it all in.  I have already met four birds whom I do not know, making quick jots of color and size, for identification later.


I cannot get enough of here.

I have not been here enough lately.

Not in a bad way, just in a slightly fuller schedule than I would prefer to have, way…


I have truly been experiencing summer this year, and it has felt very sweet.  I awoke early this morning, made my cup of coffee, cut my honeydew melon, buttered my homemade toast, slathered the butter with my homemade nectarine jam, sat down on the computer, answered a few emails, poured a huge glass of water, tossed in a few chia seeds, squeezed a lime in (ran out of lemon :)), added a few freshly picked herbs, laced my running sneakers, and finally scooted out the door.  I dashed around town, running the few errands I had to, and then set the truck in the direction of the mountains.

I often run with music, but today I left the iPod and ear-buds in the truck.  I unloaded the wolf pack from the bed of the truck, and the three of us let our feet carry us into the hills.  Within the first few gallops I was already beckoned to stop, to admire and examine a peculiar bone that appeared to have been sawed off.  It looked to be the part of the femur, right below the hip socket, and just above the long cylindrical shaft.  It seemed to me, an odd place to saw a bone off, as usually you just separate the pelvis from the body, and then break the joints free, by cutting away the tendons that attach the muscles to bone….so I wondered to myself, just what was this particular hunter was thinking?

The pups and I decided to do a long loop this morning, as we were feeling spry and ready to circumnavigate the mountain.  I am unsure of our exact mileage and I am ignorant of the amount of time taken, but I can tell you it felt so good to simply put one foot in front of the other, simply letting the sounds of the forest carry me onward and upward.

I love to run.  I love the freedom and the energy of this simply beautiful human-powered activity.  I love that I can stop at beckons whim to grace the forest lupine with my fingertips.  I love that I can meander into the lone and wild fern patch to visit the even loner and ever astonishing beautiful forest tiger lily.  I love the rhythm of steps and the melody of stride.  I love that my own strength is carrying me up and around this mountain.  I love to run.

I experience an extraordinary release of creativity when I run.  I often wonder if I should run with my sketch book or a tape recorder to capture these surges of thought.  Ideas, visions and thoughts flush forwards and outwards just as wheat is threshed from its’ chaff.

Most of my visions of creativity come from form, shape, sound, scent and sight of this little forest world.  It is just the animals and I on this trail.  No distractions.  No to-do list.  No cell phones.  No internet connection.  It is a primal connection of self to land.  An awareness of unions and a connection to being.

On today’s run we saw a mama coyote with pup, a bull moose, two doe’s and sign of black bear.  We heard the owl call and found two flight feathers.  We saw the vultures and crows circling a kill and decided to stay away from the bones, this time.


Today, I was entranced by sound.

I was overwhelmed by scent.

I could not help but touch living and deceased, alike.

I was overwhelmed by the beauty of bark and needle.

I lived for the quench only a mountain stream could provide.


A day in the shop, after a morning like this, is always momentous.  I cannot wait to share with you what today’s forest happenings have brought forth.

Be well, sweet wild things!






4 thoughts on “An Evening in the Garden

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