It’s spring. Seeds are sprouting, flowers are blooming, trees unfurl their sails, and I feel the pull of the dirt. I have a yearning to be outside blistering my hands on a rake, shoveling compost into a wheelbarrow, pruning winterkill and sniffing crushed leaves. Gardening tugs on my soul and I dream of what will grow from my efforts. I wait and watch. I wish. The promise of spring is all over me. I need to garden.
It’s been years since I had a patch of dirt of my own. Last season friends gifted me one of their raised beds and I bought seeds, planted them in April, nurtured them for the summer, and ate my homegrown vegetables with glee. We had a forest of snap peas, mountainous nasturtiums, and great fronds of collard swaying between stalks of borage and rows of string beans. This year I’m in a new place, surrounded by new soil, assessing my options for growth and satisfaction. I have a craving for the friendship of plants, collaborators in the harvest of sunlight, rich with the genius of photosynthesis, ripe with the color of chlorophyll, rapt in the love of roots, fungus, spores and pollen. A greenhouse, a nursery, a garden, a field, a forest. That’s the place for me. That’s where I want to be. So, I’m taking a vacation from weekly posts, putting my blog on hiatus for the growing season to explore my inner dirt and write more in depth about this life beyond 60.
Gardening reminds me what’s real, where life comes from, how I’m connected to this planet through my skin, my touch, my taste and sense of smell. Nature is calling me and I’m on my way. Blogging for this past 2+ years has been a delightful experience. Now I need to be quiet. To just be. Today is my 116th Wednesday post. All 116 of them are on my website along with links to my books. It’s those creations that are giving me time off to think. To listen. To witness.
I am energized. My home is a simple cabin among towering trees. I want to see what I can learn from them. I want to speak their language, hear their songs. There is music here. I don’t want to miss it. So, I’m shifting my attention, my most valuable asset, from the virtual world to the living things around me. My homeplace. My love. A good night sleep, a serene meditation, a delicious meal, affection, wonder. These are my priorities. My brain needs more wonder. If you miss me, tap my shoulder. I’m right here. Just practicing silence for a while. Off on a wonder quest. Curiosity without obligation.
Truth be told, this sabbatical is my birthday present to myself. March 21st I begin my 67th go around the sun with a heart full of gratitude for you, your praise and kindness. Looking forward. Thanks for reading.
9 thoughts on “My Wonder Quest”
Ah, the lovely distractions of Spring. I’ll be joining you in planting and tidying the garden. My birthday March 29th begins my 71st year and I’ll be preparing for the local garden tour in July. The weeds have begun to tremble. Enjoy getting soil under your nails.
Good to hear from you, Susan. Happy birthday and happy gardening!
You put into words what has been percolating inside me. I love that you’re honoring what you’re feeling inside. My this be a year of wonderment for us both.
Thanks for percolating with me, Pam.
You will be sorely missed but take the time you need. We’ll be here.
Thank you, Kelly. Good to know you are out there.
Billie, What a beautiful hiatus post. I will miss your blog posts but repect your decision and wish you immense satisfaction in your renewed quest for putting your hands in the natural world.
Thanks for wishing me satisfaction in my wonder quest. Hope you find it, too, Gloria.