Some people and places overflow with life in a way that stirs something beneath and beyond our senses: something of glory and grace that we catch in little glimpses, lifting our hearts, catching our breath— inviting ... hope. Visiting our friends at the farm was like this for me. It was like stepping into a Tolkeinesque world: a world where so much more than we 'realize' is going on.
We were welcomed— even 'herded'— into the kitchen by their Border Collie, where our friends were preparing risotto with freshly gathered wild mushrooms, and sautéeing pumpkin with rosemary, kneading dough and pressing it out, and laying sliced apples atop to bake for a fresh dessert.
The gate to the 'kitchen garden' offers a glimpse of the light and playfulness that beats at the heart of this place, and this home. To offer words like 'creativity' or 'beauty' barely approaches the overflowingness, the superfluity of life.
The curve of the driftwood gate, jauntily placed off-centre, and oh, my — the garden itself. The sun was lowering but still there was such light and colour in the garden.
May you, and may we all catch glimpses of such overflowingness of life today, even amidst today's own dailyness and difficulties.
