I wish I could say I’ve been off doing something exciting, but in truth, I can only report what a long, ordinary trip it’s been. A summer with my boys — swimming at our neighborhood pool, hiking and camping enveloped in the Blue Ridge Mountains, standing humble a few times by the mighty Atlantic, honing my skills as a sensei of sibling rivalry. The garden, chaotic master, likewise consumed.
As planting season hiatus tumbled into weeding and harvesting and then a new planting season, I found myself wondering if I’d ever return to this plot in the virtual commons. But this is the way of my writing: a rolling balance from experience to reflection. And as the sunlight dwindles over my family’s kitchen garden, my inner world is filling with unstrung ideas and the words to bind them. It’s time to show up here again.
It is my intention to post every Friday. A scaled back promise, yes, but I’m going to be forty in the spring, and brave enough to claim a bit more wisdom in my boundary setting. I’ll be starting next Friday with a look at what I’ve learned after my first season of trying to harvest this idea called liberty.
Until then, I leave you with a reading of my favorite poem, Wallace Stevens’ The Plain Sense of Things (1) cast over a decidedly amateur web cam video of our dooryard and gardens on an overcast September day.
© Jennifer S. and harvestliberty.net, 2012.
1. Stevens, Wallace. “The Plain Sense of Things.” The Collected Poems of Wallace Stevens. New York: Vintage Books, 1990.