Please, please listen to me children

Memorial Day cat

Mason Jennings continues to speak to me, so much so that I urge you again—go give him some money. If I must use these bytes to make fund-raising pleas for the artists I believe in, then so be it. I'll repeat, as I did in March:

The sun comes up and we start again
The sun comes up and we start again
Be here now
No other place to be
This whole world keeps changing
Come change with me

The whole world does keep changing. Winter metamorphoses into spring, which shifts, subtly, slowly, to summer. Time turns this place into home, despite all of my restlessness. I'm investing in photo frames, hanging pictures on the walls. Investing in blueberry and asparagus plants. Sinking roots into the soil.

Part of that means becoming genuinely part of the community around me, to grow where I'm planted. I resist jealousy when I hear fellow farmers are planting on days when I'm slacking. Farming is like yoga, right? No competition in farming. Just getting things to come up from the ground.

I went out on an all-terrain vehicle for the first time yesterday, along the road they call Deep Woods, a rutted, dusty farm access road. It was a blast—the sky studded with clouds and blue and the fields all around and the wind and dirt in my hair. I loved it. Carbon consequences be damned. Then we went back to R.'s and had a bonfire and barbecued steaks and hot dogs and ate them with mustard pickle from last year's garden.

God's in his heaven and all's right with the world. Be here now. There's no other place to be.

All the doubts that linger
Just set them free
And let good things happen
Let the future come

I'll plant more tomorrow, build more. One more day older. One fewer day to live. And still, only now is given.