The Deluge

There's a section in my favorite novel, One Hundred Years of Solitude by Gabriel Garcia Marquez, where it rains for something like 20 years straight.  That's what it feels like this week, although it's really only been 4 days or so.  The chickens have been hiding under the truck bed to keep dry; I guess they have cabin fever too and want to stay out of the coop.  I have a lot to do in the garden (the weeds!  the rain is helping them out TOO MUCH.) but the whole garden is a mud puddle, and every step I take compresses the soil into a concrete brick, which I absolutely want to avoid, so... I have to find other work to do.  I'm getting a head-start on baking for the weekend (this week: lemon-poppyseed chick cookies, peach-strawberry tarts, rhubarb cupcakes, and, of course, wood-fired sourdough bread...) and I've been cleaning out the barn... an adventure that could take a loooong time.  Yesterday I faced the extra-glamorous task of scraping chicken poop out of the barn loft, where they roosted all winter.  Today... I think I'll organize the GIANT PILE OF TOOLS in the front part of the barn--they'll be much more useful if we know where they all are!  My mucking-about boots are getting a solid workout in all of the mud.  Here's hoping it clears up for the weekend! 

A Day Off = A Day On

Tuesdays are shaping up to be my days off--the weekends are full of farmers market and farm store, and once I get home from Church on Sundays its more fun to work in the garden and chat with visitors than to sit inside by myself.  Tuesdays are perfect--the weekend is done and cleaned up after, and there's no rush to get ready for the next one yet.  Last Tuesday, Brendan and I borrowed the car and went to find the thrift stores in town.  It was over 100 degrees, but we had a picnic anyways.  It was a good day to not be working!  

This Tuesday I was on my own, since Brendan's on a family vacation.  I started off the day slow and lazy, reading in bed and having breakfast in my pajamas on the hammock, and then decided, since it was a lovely day, to get off my butt and have an adventure.  Sue got her bike down from the top of the barn, and pointed me towards the Douglas Trail, and off I went!  

The Trail is lovely, deep and wooded, with farms dotting the way.

I was totally overjoyed when, about 2 miles into my ride, the trail crossed the Zumbro River.  I miss rivers like crazy in this, my first summer away from Camp Amnicon.  It was total bliss--with a dash of nostalgia--to sit on the bank and daydream.

 And I found some marsh marigolds, my favorite wildflower!  They grow all over at Amnicon, and they added to the sense of home. 

There was a nice little perch up on the bridge where I could watch the river go it's way.  I wish I would have brought a field guide for trees or birds or wildflowers!

 Did I mention that it was a glorious day?  

My ride ultimately took me to Pine Island, a cute little town about 8 miles down the trail.  I wandered around a bit, had a muffin in a coffee shop, and decided to head back.  By the time I started home, the wind was whipping up and it felt like rain... and it seems like the uphill stretches are disproportionately arranged for the way back!  Sue called at one point to ask if I wanted a lift, but I persevered and made it back to reward myself with the uber-delicious cinnamon ice-cream I'd made that morning.  

Wanna hear something that drives me nuts?

Bottled.

Water.

Now don't get me wrong-- I really love water. I love being hydrated. I love the way that water tastes (even St. Peter water!). I love swimming in water, canoeing on water, and hearing running water first thing when I wake up in the morning.

I love the way that water makes things live.

How many times have you heard this: 60% of the human body is water. We can't live without it.

In Daoism, water is a symbol for the Dao, or 'the way'. It loves humble places. It nourishes all things without trying. It fits into every vessel.

In my personal spiritual journey, water has become a symbol for God--perhaps its because I spent three months living on rivers. A river is always changing, always the same. It can be furious and powerful and dangerous, or broad and sunny and calm. It changes the landscape. Everything nearby draws its life from the river.

We are so blessed to have access to clean drinking water just by turning on a tap. 1.2 billion people in the world are not so blessed. Currently a cholera epidemic is killing hundreds in Zimbabwe--an epidemic that wouldn't exist if clean water were available.

So why do we feel the need to buy and sell bottled water? Why do we trap this essence of life in cheap plastic, which only adds to the pollution problem? In some parts of the world public water sources are being privatized in order to produced bottled water, increasing the need of the poor and oppressed while feeding the consumer culture of the elite.

So...

What are you going to do?