What better way to use one's sole day of rest than to arise early and toil in the garden for five hours. I had no choice as the peas need to go in now if I hope to get any for the Fall. So, a bit after seven I was out in dew-damp earth, reaping the neglect I'd sowed. My schedule has been such that I'm not attending to garden and home matters as I'd like, but things are still relatively functional. The pea seedlings (the peedlings) were not going to wait another day. There were rumblings of insurrection from the two pans of young and bold fruits-to-be (yes, peas are, technically, a fruit like a tomato). So, rather than watch my peas make like pea soup and split, I did the work. After a few hours I saw some dark weather coming in like a cinder-soaked curtain. But it was the thunder that was the most ominous. The sound of that thunder was the sound you'd hear in a movie where God speaks. Horror movie thunder pales to God-movie thunder. I knew I needed to get moving, but I still was a good 45 minutes off. Luckily, the thunder was a warning for me as the storm was so strong, I could hear it coming from a long way off. As I placed the last baby into its bed and tucked it in with its earthen blanket, I felt the first drop of rain. I got my wheelbarrow of organic earth covered and stowed in the nick of time. By the time the first splash of water from my upstairs bathroom shower hit my mud-caked body, the skies completely opened up and my garden was getting its mud-caked body showered as well. The lightning and thunder were very present and power flickered a few times in homage to the savage power of nature. The storm was intense, but brief. After thirty minutes or so the world returned to calm. With my work behind me, I was finally free to eat something and read for a while.
Thunder is one of natures most respected harbingers. When thunder speaks, everyone listens. I whispered a "thank you" to thunder as it graciously gave me ample warning of impending "satus interruptus". Without it, I may have been stuck in a muddy predicament. When it comes to our Reboots, I wonder what the "thunder" moment was for you? What thunder warning did you hear that made you take notice? For me it was pants that were far too tight and a loss of my once proud physique. Walking up the hill to work was more of a chore than it should have been. Mainly, it was the sallow look on the face of the chap I see when I shave. Some spark was fading. It was as if I was walking on the edge of a precipice and really didn't care. I wasn't interested in falling over, but I wasn't taking the sort of precautions one should take in that situation. I had been mulling over a change for weeks. Two years earlier I attempted a change that didn't work out due to social and family pressures. In retrospect, that never should have happened. This time it will not happen. Without the thunder, I never would have know a storm was so close.
As the clouds cast their last, feeble drops of rain toward the earth, the thunder says its goodbye. The drenched ground eagerly soaks up the succulent gift from above and sets to work building life. My seedlings were none the worse for wear. Their baptism complete, they were now about the business of pea production. Without faith and hope, no one plants seeds into the ground. Why bother with the weeks or months of labor if you don't plan on seeing a harvest? Without faith and hope, no one starts a Reboot. Why bother with the weeks or months of labor if you don't expect to see a harvest? But we do expect to see growth and a harvest. We sow because we have faith. We know all the labor, even in the midst of the storms, will be worth it when we reap our bumper-crop.
A gardener watches the world for signs of when to act. When she sees certain insects move or certain shoots spring up, she knows it is time to plant. When she hears the thunder, she knows to protect the vulnerable plants. A Rebooter watches her body for signs of when to act. When she notices certain feelings or symptoms, she knows it is time to juice. When she hears the thunder, she heeds the warning and sets to her task. She sips her juice in gratitude and whispers a quiet "thank-you" to the passing thunder.
|I am 70% through the 60 days.|
Weight: 149.7 lbs.
|Up just a little from yesterday.|
Food: Homemade salad, banana, almond butter, raw cacao goji seed chunks, tropical smoothie, fancy eating-out salad, first local apple of the season.