Sun setting over the back pasture, finches bending and swaying the tall grasses as they reach for seed heads, my sleek little black kitten perched atop my back as I harvest.
A pair of tree swallows took over the bluebird house. One poked its head out to watch, making sure I didn’t come too close to its nest. Tree swallows make beautiful nests, filled with feathers from the hen house which whirl around the tiny eggs like the gentlest blanket. Tree swallows are shimmery blue which makes me instantly like them, even though they bullied their way into the bluebird house.
I’ve been in a marathon of corporate consulting, making hay of another sort while I can.
Bare feet in the dirt, berry juice running down my chin as I eat right from the garden–I feel the connection I long for, the reminder that all is right with the world when the world comes down to fresh strawberries.