Yesterday was bliss, pure and simple. I started my morning at an urban farm site, which is my usual Tuesday routine. For various reasons, the two people that normally work on Tuesday had to leave early. Originally, I too, planned to leave mid-morning and did not bring my usual morning snack to get me through until lunch, assuming I would be home for snack time (an essential part of my day). When the lead farmer (and resident homeowner) realized I was leaving due to lack of fuel, she kindly offered me an apple, green juice from her newly acquired juicer, and homemade rosemary crackers. I gladly accepted and continued harvesting, thinning, and bundling bunches of kale, broccoli raab, and daikon radishes for two hours by myself.
The weather was perfect: sunny, high sixties, slight breeze. Texas, I may have to take back some of the awful things I said about you last fall when I felt burned by the summer, both literally and figuratively. This mild weather is making for the most pleasant January I've ever experience. I'm soaking up every second of it before the summer's intensity is upon us again.
The whole morning I kept thinking, "this is the dream" as I looked around an urban backyard filled with vegetables and happy chickens. From watering the seedlings in the greenhouse to the inexplicable giddiness that overcomes me with each radish I pull, I was overwhelmed by the intense feeling of that I do know what my future holds. After all the uncertainty and doubt, it's a welcome feeling. I think I've known for awhile, but I get easily sidetracked and bogged down by the expectations of society.
This feeling of certainty is intensified when I read books like The Dirty Life, recommend by a good friend. My favorite part so far? When the writer describes the first time her family meets her (future) husband. He's wearing a t-shirt inside out because he always wears it exactly as it comes out of the wash; that way, he's right half the time and figures it "wears more evenly." Love it, especially because that's exactly the kind of thing Henry would do. Have I mentioned that he sewed his own boxer shorts a few months ago out of leftover material from a college toga party his freshman year? Or that he set aside his socks with holes in the heel so he can attempt to repair them instead of buying new ones? Because he did, and it makes me love him all the more.