Last
weekend, we gathered to order seeds—four friends, some tea and lemon bars, and
our seed catalogs. It was pouring out. People ran for the door hiding under
plastic bags, tucking seed boxes under arms, and shook the water off when they
came in. It was loud on the roof in the dining room. No one m indeed. We had
seeds on our minds. Several had already made lists, other lists were made
during discussion. Seed packets flew
around the table. I tracked orders on my big yellow pad. We talked varieties,
past successes, and big plans for the coming season. When we broke up, we had a
master order together—and I placed it the next night. They should be here soon.
After the
seed fest, I went to the TuB’Shevat with my friend Maureen. It is a lovely
ritual celebrating “the sap rising in the trees” and the very beginnings of
Spring. There are readings, chants, blessings, and ritual fruits as we move
from the hard-shelled world of the body to the world of pure spirit. The table
is covered with various fruits, fresh and dried, and it combines a little of
the harvest with hopes for the coming year. This year, there was an underlying
concern about the impact of climate change on the human and plant communities
of the world.
When I came
home, Mark filled the greenhouse tub with hot water. After dinner, I soaked in
the tub, and watched the full moon rise through the foggy windows. I dreamed of
seeds started on the shelves inside and planted in the beds outside my windows,
then came in for a long, still winter’s night sleep.
I made the Whole Lemon Bars from the Smitten Kitchen cookbook, which I am loving for gatherings. It's a little fussy for every day!
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