I’m an insomniac. No rhyme or reason to it. It happens and has been since I was a child. And I’m in a current bout with it. So when I woke up for the day I felt like a colorless blob of a being, which when this happens is normal.
We’ve had a steady amount of rain recently, and I needed to catch up on weeding at my garden plot, and some touch ups that needed to be done that were driving me crazy, so I took this feeling of a colorless blob to the garden, and figured in some way it would work it’s magic.
And it did.
On my way over, I had rescued some Gerbera Daisies. Some people rescue animals, I rescue plants off clearance shelves. While sunflowers are the happiest flowers to me, Gerberas are a close second. I found my color, now I just needed to add some life to my spirit. I was off to garden to hopefully find it there.
When I arrived, my neighbor’s were there and they had their grandchild with them, who is about 5 years old. A motivated helper, and curious as children could be, I found myself having a memory played out in front in me in real time. Many years ago that child was me, and the grandparents were my parents, or the farmer friends of the family who taught me the value of caring for the earth, and the delicate balance that rewards us for bring the stewards of the land.
It was pure joy to hear this child’s wonder and amazement as the soundtrack for my time there. No music could ever top the sound of amazement this child was expressing. Pumpkins from flowers! Tomatoes from buds! Flowers that keep the bad bugs away, all resonated in my heart and soul. I was watching a story write itself naturally about nature, and the traditions and knowledge that were being passed from one generation to the next as I worked the soil to save rescued plants.
An living example of a great story unfolding naturally as most stories do. And, the true essence of what Vanishing Feast is all about.