The most important thing Freya has taught me so far is how satisfying a minute can be when I really pay attention. The flip side: realizing how easily I am distracted from the moment, and how distinct each of these times is from the other. I have begun recognizing certain moments as “Freya Devotionals.” They occur at random, but reliably, on the hour. Like sinking into a bed of warm straw, but much more brief. Pretty much perfectly indescribable.
So, yeah, at a time when the simplest things have become most important, it comes to pass that I love growing slow food. Every vegetable I put in my mouth these days, I pay more attention to its taste and whether or not I would like to have a row or a square foot of it growing nearby. Exciting to eat that way. And maybe it’s some semblance of how Freya eats.
It is high spring here and we have been spending hours with plants. The condo is in shambles, there are friends I really do want to catch up with (TC! Ana! Hello!), but all I can do is Freya and flora. I think I’ve reached a pivotal point, where hobby becomes passion: While enjoying this one to the utmost, I have already started planning for next year’s garden. All of what I’m growing now, plus strawberries, edamame, many many salad greens, and more varieties of tomato. Heirloom, all of it, if possible? I foresee a winter of seed catalogs.
And I think I’m at a pivotal point in baby-raising, too, where dirt moves from foe to friend. Recently someone wise reminded me that we all eat a peck of dirt in our lifetime. A month ago, that adage seemed downright objectionable; but now, having been with Freya outdoors for much of the past several days, I’m really getting used to the idea. Even downright liking it. Don’t know if she’ll be an outdoors kind of person, but I’ve decided she’ll have a good chance at it, living with me.
And, can’t help it, have to end with: Yes, Barack!!!!!