I’m grateful for harvest, from early carrots and okra for me, to whatever I grow that the deer want. It’s the least I can do.
Today I’m grateful for carrots. Shortly before the ground froze, I pulled a surprising number of big purple carrots from a bed where I’d scattered a bunch of random seeds in the spring. I took out a few from the fridge today (grateful for the Sunfrost refrigerator) to make a carrot-ricotta tart. Here it is January, and I’m still eating carrots I harvested months ago, surprise carrots at that!
Grateful that carrots seem to grow well in my garden most years, that they are quick and resilient, come in various shapes, sizes, and subtle flavors, that they last for months in the fridge and brighten a cloudy winter day with stored summer sunlight. Grateful that I had time and energy to tend the garden all summer, grateful for water, for the fence that keeps the deer out and the friends who helped build it, for raised beds, good dirt, and homemade compost to nourish the soil.
Full of gratitude this morning, eating the best pumpkin pie leftovers for breakfast on the morning before Thanksgiving, sitting by the pond, enjoying the tiny goldfish in the water and bird song in the air; enjoying most of all the ground of silence behind the sounds of nature. Once again our world is threatened. I knew this summer was one of savoring what may be the last clean, quiet summer for decades. BLM has re-opened the leasing process for 20,000+ acres of land within our agricultural valley, and a local land grabber has gotten preliminary approval from the county to open a gravel mine on a ridge along the road to town. Bye-bye sounds of silence if either of these industrial assaults comes to the neighborhood. And losing peace and quiet will be the least of our worries with silica dust from the open pit blowing in our breezes, and air- and water-borne contaminants poisoning our essential elements. Work is underway again to mount another massive community resistance to the drilling/fracking leases, and plenty of people are up in arms about the gravel pit, too. “We’ll know more later.”
Meanwhile, I continue to uncover treasures in the garden. Katrina helped get all the beds ready for winter with lovely rich compost we made here, and straw mulch; I pulled the last of the kaleidoscope carrots, and we planted garlic.
Tomorrow brings feasting with 20 friends at the Bad Dog Ranch, and much love and camaraderie. I wish everyone a happy Thanksgiving, though I know all too many won’t have one. I pray for an end of suffering for all sentient beings.