On my way to the long low poultry houses I pass the large fenced vegetable garden. It feels like a sacred space, far more private than the rest of the surroundings, and so out of respect I have skirted it...until today. Now I unhook the rusted latch on the slatted wooden gate and enter.
Life is burgeoning. Bees and butterflies are at work in profusion. My inner senses dance among the variety of shapes and colors and textures. I realize immediately that in order to be whole again I need a garden in my life.
Something catches my eye and as I squint through the oversized foliage of a summer squash. I see, perhaps two hundred feet up the slope, lying snug against the earth, the main residence, a low single story contemporary designed home. There is a natural pond outside the back door.
The sun is reflecting off the surface of the water.. Through the brilliant light I think I see an apparition. I watch as a graceful nude figure emerges, rising up and out of the pond with ease.
There's fluidity to her movement and dignity in her posture as she wraps herself in a flowing white garment. She stands in the sun and idly creates a long single braid in her pure white hair before the shadows absorb her into the house.
I am entranced.
This artist memoir celebrates the 60th year.
This graphic created in SUMO
Picking Up Lunch
6 hours ago