Feeling the pull back to this place after the drought of Phoenix in the summer. And it’s Phoenix, not the desert, nor Arizona. But that’s another story. So I’m here, but also feeling like I have nothing pertinent to say. So I’ll try back to basics. The blogging of old days when, for me, it was about my life. Simple things, journal scribbles and perhaps a recipe or two. I suppose it’s a bit of an apology or something, which is silly and cliched. It is my space after all. But I feel the need to offer a warning: the HerbMama may not be the stop you hoped it would. For now, I just need a place to land and spill, and this is where I’ve come. We are in the midst of big big changes and I feel myself needing to compost the feelings and motions of it all somewhere. So if you’ve come for herbal endeavors, there may be some as they fit in, but mostly a random smattering of things will now find its way on to these pages.
It’s time to tend the garden.
Peeking outside to see the girls picking the last of the okra from the towering guerilla bush that sits center stage.
The hornworms just discovered, perhaps solving the mystery of no tomatillos this year.
The billowing waterfall of green watermelon vines, one lone melon, growing steadily in these last few heated days.
Sage singing her ABCs.
Our fall nature table, a bit odd looking and bare, representative of a different sort of season.
20 pounds of canned tomato sauce on the counter.
It’s a monday. Which is usually rest day around here. I try not to make plans, dates, or appointments. We recover from the burst of the weekend and just relax. Sit outside in garden while it’s still cool, watch a movie or two, eat mac n cheese for breakfast, and don’t pick up or fold a thing. The rest of the week, our calendar filled, there will be plenty of time for that. But today, just a little bit of nothing is on the menu. Which sorta seems to have been the theme of the summer. And I’m okay with that. Just for one more day. Because tomorrow, everything is new. The first new moon of my favorite season. And this Libra moon, the balanced, steady moon of my husband’s birth, reminds me to see the opposite side of every argument. To seek out the shadow or the light, whichever was missing from my perspective.