pickin

A view from down below
Happy Angela
The fruits of our labor
Every year about this time we get to pick cherries from our good friend Pete's farm. At first, more end up in our mouths than in our bags. As you stand near the trunk, you look up into a canopy of jewels, every cluster ripe and sun kissed. It is easy to get carried away because each one looks more delicious than the next and there are three different varieties. We move along from one tree to the next, the heat and dust being all part of the experience. Later, back at home, they get washed and placed into a basket. This always looks like a beautiful piece of art sitting on my counter top. The tummy aches we get that day aren't always welcome, but are well worth the price of this tradition.

rain dance

the lightening cracked, the thunder roared and rain suddenly poured from the sun streaked sky. i bolted off the couch and ran into my backyard, i wanted to feel it on my skin and hair, my face turned skyward and my mouth automatically opened. i stood there with arms open wide blinking away soft eyelash drops. inside i felt thirsty, this surprise storm being just what i needed in that seized moment. i calmly walked around observing how sacred rain effects each thing in the yard, my thin cotton nightgown being the perfect attire for this dance. again lightening lit up the sky along with the immediate crack and boom of thunder. the storm was passing directly over me and the rain quickened with this demand. in the middle of my lawn i turned in circles, smiling upward in thanksgiving and laughed at the sight of me. in this childlike moment i realized how safe my existence has become and that i need spontaneous rain dances to occur in all the area's of my life.